


So Much of My Heart

by nicalyse



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Post-Break Up, Rimming, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, pre-polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:18:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicalyse/pseuds/nicalyse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does Nick think that Louis is with Niall whenever he isn't with Nick? (He is.) Does Niall think that nights spent away from him are spent with Nick? (They are.) Louis hadn't considered what either of them thought, whether either of them thought about the other, but of course they must.</p><p>So how much of a dick is Louis, being with both of them like this?</p><p> </p><p>In which Louis leans on both Nick and Niall after his breakup with Eleanor, and it leads to something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Much of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/gifts).



> This is mostly canon compliant, save for a few exceptions: First, Nick and Louis are friends, per your prompt. Second, Louis and Eleanor's breakup takes place near the end of a tour and before an extended sort of break. Third, Zayn's status in the band is a non-issue.
> 
> Particular thanks to [sunsetmog](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog), for her unfailing kindness and encouragement, and the very important silly story she contributed, and to Tori for her encouragement and for organizing all of this! This was so much fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it, alison!

Louis can be a dick. It's not news to anyone who knows him, but this latest is just more evidence for the rest of the world, more ticks in the negative column.

He's folded himself up into the corner of the sofa in the bus lounge, texting with Lottie. They're both pretending that there aren't photos of him kissing a "mystery brunette" all over the internet, with articles declaring him a dirty rotten cheater, discussing how heartbroken Eleanor must be.

Eleanor finished with him weeks ago, but no one is supposed to know that until the tour is done. Louis is aware that he's fucked that up for all of them.

"You couldn't have just waited?" Liam asks, making his way into the lounge and dropping onto the sofa beside Louis. His tone even and curious, not judgmental. Louis doesn't answer, doesn't even glance up from his phone. All he's done all morning is talk about it - or be talked _at_ about it - in conference calls with management. He's done talking about it. 

Liam waits for a while, then sighs softly, pushing up off the sofa, making his way up the corridor toward the kitchen area, where Louis can hear Niall and Mark laughing about something. He's relieved that Liam didn't push. But then, maybe Liam knows well enough that he didn't expect an answer when he asked in the first place.

When they get to the hotel in the next city, Louis is the first one off the bus, desperate to put a locked door between himself and anyone he doesn't want to talk to about why he's made a complete arse of himself in front of the whole world. (Which is everyone, if he's honest.) He hates staying in hotels, hates how sterile and quiet they are, but he's willing to make the sacrifice.

He peels back the duvet and crawls into bed still fully dressed even though it's early. He's exhausted and ready for today to be over. He acted out, and that was wrong for a whole host of different reasons, both personal and professional. Ultimately, all he did was make himself feel worse. He falls asleep eventually, too stubborn to get out of bed, but he's a restless, tossing and turning, mind whirring away double-time. He's so tired.

It's morning in London when management releases the statement that they'd all agreed upon, revealing that Louis and Eleanor had been broken up for weeks before the brunette. (And god, it's beyond fucked up that Louis can't even remember her name, he _knows_ that.) It's half-one in the morning where the band is, and Louis has to turn his phone off to stop the alerts from vibrating his phone off the side of the bed. It's too much, and after a point, he can't take any more.

Niall is rumpled and squinty-eyed when he opens the door to Louis' knock. He doesn't ask any questions, just steps to the side to let Louis in, shuffling back to the bed and pulling the duvet up over both of them when Louis' climbed in beside him. He opens his arms, pulling Louis in to settle against his chest, stroking gently over the back of Louis' hair when he draws in a shuddering breath.

And Niall doesn't say a word when he cries, hot, silent tears leaving tracks on his cheeks and soaking Niall's shirt. He tugs Louis closer and holds the back of his neck with a firm grip until he finally falls asleep.

*

_Doing all right?_ Nick texts the morning after the story breaks.

_Everything's shit._

_You're a stupidly rich, stupidly famous popstar with a stupidly beautiful face. Surely not everything's shit._

_None of that stopped el being done with me_

_Well fuck._ And then, seconds later, _You can get drunk on ludicrously expensive booze though._

_Can we do that when I'm back in London?_

_Absolutely._

Nick Grimshaw is the best sort of person, honestly.

*

Everything is really, spectacularly shit.

Management is pissed at Louis for getting caught with a girl and forcing their hand after everyone had agreed that it would be best to keep the breakup out of the news until after the tour wrapped. Both he and Eleanor are getting shit on Twitter. Paps are lingering outside of her flat in Manchester; there are photos of her outside of her front door with Bruce. His phone won't stop vibrating, calls and text alerts, and the boys are giving him quiet, concerned looks.

Louis doesn't even have a dog any more, that's how shit it is.

(Okay, Bruce was already all but Eleanor's dog. Louis paid for him and helped to pick him out and name him and all the fun stuff, but it was Eleanor who took him to the vet and the groomer, Eleanor who walked him twice a day, Eleanor at whose flat he lived when Louis was on tour for six months out of the year. Of course Louis was going to tell her to keep Bruce, but that doesn't mean that he can't be sad that he can't even _say_ he has a dog any more.)

He takes to texting Nick whenever he feels the urge to say something hateful on Twitter, which means that Nick's on the receiving end of a lot of snark and nastiness, but he can take it, and he dishes it out with the best of them.

_Is there a pap prerequisite that says they have to be creepy wankers or do you think it's a coincidence?_

_Too consistent to be a coincidence, innit?_

_Maybe it's like a contact high_

_Contact creepy wankerness? Sounds plausible._

The boys are there for him, too, each in their own way, though Louis tends to find himself seeking out Niall's company more than the others. He wanders onto bus two when they make a petrol stop; back on bus one, Liam is on the phone with Sophia in the back lounge and Zayn is tucked into his bunk, while Louis wide awake and restless and lonely.

He finds Niall stretched out on the sofa at the back of the bus, paging through an oversized book. "Hey," he greets, glancing up. "Changing it up?"

"Liam's being soppy with Sophia," he lies, picking up Niall's legs and flopping down so they're stretched across his lap. "What's that?"

"One of them fan scrapbooks. This one's pretty good though. Lots of art." He flips back a few pages and turns the book so Louis can see. There's an inked drawing of the band in a sort of cartoon style, big heads and shorts legs and a crazy amount of detail put into drawing tiny versions of all their tattoos. "Gonna hafta show Zayn tomorrow."

Louis hums, dropping his head against the back of the sofa.

"All right, Lou?" Niall asks softly.

"Not really," he answers honestly, lifting his head to meet Niall's eyes. "I miss her."

"Yeah." Niall's quiet for a long moment, sitting with his legs stretched across Louis' lap, the scrapbook in his hands. He flips a page. "Look. Harry as a baby deer."

Louis makes himself grin. "Show me the rest then."

They fall asleep there in the lounge, stretched out together on the sofa, the scrapbook on the floor beside them, Niall's fingers tangled up in the back of Louis' hair.

*

Louis throws everything he has into the end of the tour. He fills his days with workouts with Mark and footy with the crew. He's almost manic on stage, running the catwalk and interacting with the boys. The fans notice and comment on Twitter: some wishing him well, some speculating about drug use, some positing that he's finally "free" of Eleanor. He stays on the bus every night, where he can hear Liam's soft snores coming from his bunk and knows that Zayn is just a couple of feet away.

It's a good distraction, and for the first time since they started, Louis finds that he isn't ready for tour to end, isn't ready to get back to day to day life again. Mostly because he isn't sure what that life is going to look like any more.

*

Louis has been home from tour for less than a day when he realizes for the first time just how much he hates being in his house alone. It's so fucking _quiet_.

He only vaguely remembers what it was like when he was young and it was just him and his mum, before he lived in a house full of little sisters. A house full of little girls is never quiet, never, somehow not even in the middle of the night when they're all sleeping and you tiptoe in mostly drunk on peach schnapps stolen from someone's mum's liquor cupboard. Moving to London and living with just Harry was jarring in the beginning, but they'd gotten into the habit of sharing beds early on, and having someone snoring softly just beside him was almost a substitute for a house full of people.

The quiet is why he stays on the bus to sleep when they tour. Hotels are an unnatural sort of quiet, the weird nothingness of a transient space occasionally punctuated by the sounds of people you don't know. 

When he and Harry moved out of the flat and Louis bought the house, he'd worried about it being too quiet, but Eleanor spent a good deal of time here. Almost all of the time when he was in London, because they were forced to spend so much time apart that they clung to the time they had together. All told, Louis hasn't spent more than a day or two at a time alone in this house since he bought it years ago. Now there's this huge, yawning abyss of time alone, nights spent sleeping by himself, days rattling around the house discovering the bits and pieces El has left behind over the years.

Jesus fucking Christ, he's a dramatic bastard.

The house is too _big_ for one person though. It's just too big, full stop, as far as he's concerned, but the financial advisers tell him that real estate is an investment, and Louis has a lot of money to invest. He still hates the house.

He wanders into the kitchen - which is useless to him save for the kettle, because the only edible things in the place are tea and an unopened box of multi-grain crackers that he sure as fuck didn't buy - and goes to the back door, looking out at the garden. It's raining, of course, the wind whipping the drops into the windows as it gusts. He can see a rubber ball just under the edge of a hedge, bright orange and blue, one of the ones that Bruce would fetch. But Bruce won't be back for it, probably won't be back here ever again, even if Louis does have a basket of toys in the lounge and food dishes and a big plush bed in the corner of his bedroom.

Excellent. He's a complete sad sack, too.

He grabs his phone off the bench and scrolls through his contacts quickly, selecting one and waiting for it to ring through. "I've just thought about adopting a kitten," he says when Nick answers. "I'm going to come to yours instead."

"I think you'd be adorable with a kitten," Nick replies. "All that fluffy hair together."

"You're not half as funny as you think you are." Louis can practically hear Nick's smirk. "I'll be there in a half hour."

Pig barks when Louis knocks on Nick's door, a single sharp bark that precedes the sound of Nick's footfalls. He's wearing soft joggers and a worn tee when he opens the door, quiff beginning to flop in the late afternoon. At his bare feet, Pig is wagging her tail so enthusiastically that her whole body wriggles. Louis crosses the threshold before dropping to his knees to greet her, cooing and scratching between her ears.

"I see where I rank," Nick remarks drily, shutting the door.

"Yes, and don't forget that, Grimshaw." He tips his head back to shoot Nick a smirk, staying there on the cold floor to rub Pig's belly while Nick goes back into his living room to flop on the sofa.

Louis and Nick have been friends for years now, though they didn't quite get off on the right foot. Nick thought Louis was snotty, Louis thought Nick was using Harry (and was maybe a little jealous of the time they spent together). But then Nick came to a party they threw at the flat and he and Louis actually had a chance to talk and find their common ground. They're more similar than they are different, determined and sharp and private when it counts. Now they spend time together whenever Louis is actually in London, text regularly when he's not, interact sometimes on Twitter. It's good, their friendship.

Louis ends up on the sofa eventually, taking up more than his share of the room, watching recorded episodes of _Master Chef_ and bickering with Nick about what takeaway they should order. Louis is lobbying for Thai while Nick wants pizza, which might be okay if Nick didn't like shit toppings.

"Is this what we're going to do then?" Nick asks. Louis lifts an eyebrow. "Argue about takeaway, I mean."

"We wouldn't have to argue if you didn't think that _spinach_ is an acceptable pizza topping, Nicholas."

"Are you not going to tell me what happened then?" Louis affects the blank expression he's perfected in the last few years. "With Eleanor," Nick clarifies, unwavering even when Louis scowls.

He hadn't planned to talk about it with Nick, actually, but not because it's Nick. He doesn't want to talk about it, full stop, even if it is the only bloody thing on his mind. But then, there is a reason that he's at Nick's instead of at home, so. 

"She met someone else."

"Did she cheat on you?"

"She didn't sleep with him, if that's what you mean. Emotional infidelity." It's Zayn's term, but it's exactly the sort of stupidly precise shit that resonates with Nick.

"That's shit," he says succinctly.

It is at that. It's also maybe why he let himself be photographed with that girl before they went public with the breakup. Because if Eleanor could fall for someone else and leave him, he could do one better. Except he didn't, because she was already done with him, so all he accomplished was making himself look like a dick.

"Is she with him now?" Nick asks.

"I don't know," Louis says with a shrug. "But I do know that we're ordering Thai now that you've made me talk about it, well done."

Nick snorts. Pig, lying on the floor in front of the couch, lifts her head to look at him. "That was talking about it?" 

"That's all you're getting." He plucks Nick's phone out of his hand to scroll through the takeaway menu. "C'mon then. I want pineapple fried rice."

*

Even his shower is depressing, Louis thinks, standing slumped beneath the hot spray. All of Eleanor's products are still here, lined up on the ledge with his satsuma shower gel and the shampoo and conditioner that Lou keeps stocked for him.

He doesn't let himself think about it too hard when he reaches for her shampoo, squeezing a dollop out into his hand and lathering it into his hair. She's used the same shampoo the entire time he's known her; a lump rises in his throat as he's surrounded by the coconut scent of it, the same scent that clung to her pillowcases and spilled out of the bathroom behind her every morning.

"Fuck."

He rinses his hair as quickly as he can, fumbling for his own shampoo, knocking a jar off the ledge and nearly breaking his little toe when it hits the floor.

 _Pathetic_ , he berates himself, scrubbing his scalp hard. The coconut scent lingers even under the clean smell of his own shampoo.

 _I miss you_ he texts Eleanor at four o' clock the next morning when he's lying awake.

He still hasn't slept when her reply comes through at half-seven. _Oh Lou._

*

Louis meets Niall to have a kickabout, preparation for an upcoming charity match they've both agreed to be a part of. They go at it pretty seriously, each of them bringing his best to their sparring. When they finally slow, kicking the ball back and forth gently to cool down, Louis' hair is sweaty beneath his headband and Niall is red-faced and floppy haired.

Louis has, maybe, devolved into whining.

It's Niall's fault, really, for asking how he's doing without Eleanor. For all that he didn't want to tell Nick anything, Niall knows too much to accept the short answers. But he probably didn't want to hear quite so much about how much Louis hates sleeping alone and how shit it was to gather up the things she left behind.

(He tells Niall about how he'd gone through the whole house filling boxes with things he found. He keeps some of his dignity though, not mentioning the incident in the shower with her shampoo. He also doesn't mention that he kept an almost-empty bottle of her perfume when he was gathering her things from the bathroom, nor that he pretended that he didn't see a pair of her earrings in the drawer of her bedside table, leaving them there to remain lost.)

"I don't even have a dog any more," he tells Niall, nudging the ball with his instep. "I have a dog bed and bowls and toys, but no dog." Not true, since he put those things in a box for Eleanor, too, but it's the _principle_ of the thing.

"D'ya want a new dog?" Niall asks, sliding the ball back. "I'll take you to a shelter right now."

Louis _just_ manages to stop himself from say, _I want_ my _dog._ Huh. He has more of his dignity left than he thought.

"Nah." He kicks the ball too hard, sends it shooting right past Niall's foot. Niall doesn't bother to give chase, putting a hand on his hip and looking Louis in the eye.

"You could ask Eleanor to give him back. Or for, like, visitation or what."

He had considered that, but, "No. He's El's. Always was." He shrugs. "I'll just find someone else's dog to play with."

Which is how he finds himself at Nick's again later that night, holding one end of a rope toy while Pig tugs madly, growling and grunting, toenails digging into the rug while she attempts to keep her footing. And if Louis brought her the toy, well, that's perfectly reasonable.

"Trying to spoil my dog, are you?" Nick asks when Louis produces a chew bone from the pocket of his hoodie, one of the ones meant to clean her teeth.

"Just making sure I'm her favorite for when I steal her away."

"Oi." Louis shrugs, unrepentant. "Get your own dog."

Louis does not mention Bruce, watching for a moment as Pig gnaws her bone. "Maybe."

He stays for dinner - just pasta and sauce from a jar - and helps Nick drink a bottle of wine. That is, Nick has half a glass and Louis finishes the rest of the bottle, drinking quickly enough to get a little buzzed. He dozes off when they're watching telly, head propped on his fist as he lists into the corner of the sofa.

"C'mon then," Nick says when he notices, flicking off the set and tugging Louis to his feet. "Still not sleeping?"

"Hate sleeping alone," he mumbles his reply, following Nick to his bedroom, too close to sleep not to be honest. He's not sure he's gotten a decent night's sleep since tour ended. Big, stupid, empty house.

"Make yourself comfortable," Nick tells Louis before slipping into the bathroom. Louis strips out of his hoodie and then, thinking about the way his hems drag the ground when he walks, his joggers, too. He climbs into the bed and scoots to the far side, the side with the empty bedside table. The pillows are plump, and the bed smells of clean washing powder and a bit like something vaguely herbal.

It's immediately easier to fall asleep in Nick's bed, the sounds of him moving around in the bathroom behind the closed door, cleaning his teeth and whatever else, drifting in. It's much less lonely than being in his own bed. Louis is nearly there when the door opens and Nick emerges, flicking off the light behind him.

"All right?" Nick murmurs, crawling beneath the sheets.

Louis hums, scooting closer. "'s better."

Nick turns onto his side, facing Louis and letting him tangle their legs together. He doesn't back away when Louis presses even closer, brushing a kiss to Nick's lips and snuggling down deeper into the duvet, tucking his head beneath Nick's chin. "G'night, Lou."

Louis is already too far gone to even mumble a reply.

Nick's alarm goes off at fuck o' clock the next morning, rudely dragging Louis out of the soundest sleep he's had in ages. "You don't have to get up," Nick says, soft, carefully disentangling himself. "You can stay as long as you want."

And it's tempting, really, but Louis knows that he won't be able to fall asleep again without Nick beside him. "No. 'm up." He struggles up onto one elbow 

Nick looks dubious - maybe because Louis' eyes are still mostly closed - but he shrugs. "If you like. I have to shower."

Louis grunts his understanding, crawling out of bed and tugging on his joggers before making his way to the kitchen for tea. He lets Pig out into the garden, sitting hunched over his mug on the back step watching her sniff around the hedge and do her business in the weak pre-dawn light. It's too early, but he feels better than he has in weeks, and it's sort of nice, having this easy quiet without being alone.

"Hey," he says to Nick when they're in the car riding through London. The car will drop Nick at work, then take Louis home. "Thank you. For letting me stay."

"Any time, Louis," Nick replies, warm and sincere.

*

"Come over for dinner," Niall says without preamble when Louis answers his phone. "Got a new cookery book I want to try."

It turns out that his new cookery book is an advanced copy of Jamie Oliver's latest, signed and sent over as a gift. Niall grins when Louis admires it, sat at the breakfast bar in Niall's immaculate kitchen. "What are you making me then?"

Niall's chosen a recipe for a spice-rubbed roast chicken with veg. Veg that he insists Louis help him prepare, setting him up at the cutting board with a peeler, knife, and a pile of carrots and potatoes. "I thought you said you were going to make me dinner," Louis whines, looking distastefully at the growing pile of dirty potato peels before him.

Niall laughs. "Are you really complaining about peeling a few potatoes?"

"I'm just saying that you brought me here under false pretenses, is all."

Niall scoffs, snatching up a piece of onion and pelting Louis with it.

For all of his complaining - and he absolutely does complain - dinner is _good_ , roast chicken and vegetables with warm spices. He even likes the salad that Niall puts together and piles onto Louis' plate, ignoring his protests. "Tell Jamie Oliver he's top notch, Nialler," Louis says around a mouthful of potato. Niall makes an agreeable noise around his own mouthful. "And thanks for cooking it for me," Louis adds after he's swallowed.

Niall nudges Louis' foot with his own under the table. "Any time, Tommo."

They both eat too much, devouring the best part of a meal meant to feed a family of four, collapsing onto the sofa when they've finished to watch the end of a football match on the telly, neither of them particularly invested in the outcome. Niall proposes a game of FIFA when it's finished, retrieving beers from the fridge while they settle in for a tournament.

"You're saying tonight, yeah?" Niall asks casually when Louis is scowling over his second lost match in a row.

"You don't mind?"

"Don't be stupid, Tommo," he scoffs, his attention on navigating through the game menu. "C'mon then, see if you can redeem yourself."

"You're on, Horan."

Later - after Louis has indeed redeemed himself, twice because he wasn't entirely convinced that Niall didn't let him win the first time - they go upstairs to get ready for bed, cleaning their teeth side-by-side in Niall's bathroom, each stripping down to his pants before climbing into Niall's big bed. The sheets are cool and soft, and Louis is surrounded by the scents of fabric softener and Niall's shampoo and the minty toothpaste they both used.

"Night, Nialler," Louis murmurs, sliding into Niall's space without hesitation, curling into his side, nosing at the soft hair just behind his ear.

"Night, Tommo," Niall returns, craning his neck to press his lips to Louis' in a soft kiss, their mouths minty cool and sweet. He nestles back into his pillows, toying with the hair at the nape of Louis' neck until Louis has drifted off to sleep.

*

_I'm sorry about the whole cheating thing. I was hurt and I acted like a dick, and you got shit for it. That's shit and I'm sorry._

It's too early to be texting anyone, let alone Eleanor, but Louis' got this idea that maybe if he apologizes, it'll clear his conscience enough that he'll be able to fall asleep, finally.

It doesn't work, but he gets a reply later that morning, when he's hunched over his tea at the kitchen table looking blearily out at the back garden.

_Apology accepted. Thank you._

It's something, at least.

*

Louis doesn't necessary _want_ to go to the store launch party that Nick is DJing, but he doesn't have anything better to do but sit in his house all by himself. Surely it won't be so bad. A lot of the guests are bound to be silly hipsters, but there will also be alcohol, and Nick's sets are always good.

He's right. The party isn't to his taste, but Nick is there and the bartender has a delightfully heavy hand with the rum. There's a waitress - pretty, brunette with long legs - watching him a bit too closely, but every time he finishes his drink, she's there with a new one, so he isn't complaining.

"C'mon," Nick says when it's time for his second set, pulling Louis away from a mannequin wearing a particularly hideous dress that he's side-eying. He leads Louis up onto his platform, shooting him a grin when he fits the headphones over his quiff and sets to work at the boards.

Louis likes watching Nick work like this. He mostly does gigs like this for fun, he told Louis, "Though the money _is_ nice," he'd admitted. And it shows; it's clear that Nick is enjoying himself, smiling and laughing and dancing to his own choices, slipping his headphones off one ear when Louis stands on his toes at Nick's side to point out the too-affectionate couple in the corner. He's also quite good, if Louis' being honest. The music is a good blend of substance and dance rhythms, and he's managed to get several of the too-cool hipsters to actually come out and dance, a feat in itself as far as Louis can tell.

He drinks steadily through the whole set, accepting fresh drinks from the waitress. She's great, bringing new ones up to the booth before he's even half-finished, giving him the perfect excuse to start passing the ends of his drinks to Nick. She might be angling for something, but Louis isn't looking to pull. He's here to support Nick is all. 

And a little bit for the free booze.

When Nick has finished his proper set and put a prepared playlist on, he catches Louis by the wrist and drags him down the steps to the dance floor. "Come on," he cajoles, shimmying his hips. "Let's dance."

Louis is almost too drunk for it, swaying a bit on his feet, his head light and mostly empty as he and Nick dance together, silly and lighthearted and fun.

Being with Nick is always fun, easy in a way that not a lot in his life is any more, expectations and scrutiny in so much of what he and the boys do. With Nick, he feels like he can have fun without any of the expectations or the other bullshit, like it was with Eleanor in the beginning, before the whole world knew they were together. It makes him want to spend even more of his limited free time with Nick.

They half-stumble out of the store when the rest of the crowd starts getting more uniformly drunk. Since finishing his set, Nick has had a few and Louis has sobered some, so they're more or less each as drunk as the other, sitting in the sweet place where everything is fun and nothing bad matters. They both agree that it's better to bow out before everyone else gets annoying, and Louis calls his car service to take them back to Nick's.

They're papped getting into the car, Nick with the collar of his jacket crooked and Louis clutching his phone in his hand, but whatever. It's hardly the first time either of them have been caught drunk in public.

Back at Nick's, Louis kneels on the hardwood to cuddle Pig, sneaking her treats out of the cupboard while Nick pours them glasses of water from the pitcher in his fridge. Louis splutters and falls onto his arse when Pig jumps up to lick at his face, catching the side of his mouth. It's gross, but it makes him think.

"You know what's shit?" he asks, letting Nick help him up off the floor, wiping at his face. "Not having anyone to kiss."

"You've kissed me," Nick points out. "Just the other night."

And yes, technically, but, "That's not what I mean. Proper kissing, not a peck good night."

"Snogging."

"Yeah."

Nick looks at Louis thoughtfully for a moment before turning to go into the living room, carrying his water with him. Louis blinks and trails after him, the two of them settling onto the sofa. "You could've pulled tonight," Nick finally says, angling his body toward Louis'.

Louis pulls a face. "I don't want to get pissed and snog some stranger," he says. "I've done that."

The pause that follows is pregnant, heavy with _something_.

"You could kiss me some more," Nick says softly, and _there_ it is, "if you want."

Louis takes a slow breath. "D'you want to kiss me?"

"Wouldn't've offered if I didn't, Lou."

It starts slow and easy, the two of them facing each other on the sofa, parted lips just sliding together, as light and easy as the handful of kisses they've shared before.

It isn't at all what Louis wants.

And apparently it's not what Nick wants either. "C'mon," he mumbles, pulling back just far enough to give Louis a pointed look. "Surely we can do better than that."

And really, it's like he's issued a challenge. Louis climbs into Nick's lap, knees bracketing his hips, and leans in, sliding his hand into the back of Nick's hair to tilt his head just the way he wants it. It's still slow, but he takes it gradually deeper, until he's sharing Nick's breath while their tongues slide together, hot and electric and so good.

Caught up, he rocks his hips forward once, a startled moan spilling from his lips with the movement. It brings his cock, nearly half-hard in his jeans, into contact with Nick's. He's at least half-hard, too. "Nick." It comes out on a breath, fanning over Nick's mouth, and Louis doesn't know what else to say.

It's Nick who pulls back, looking at him with dark, half-lidded eyes. "We should go to bed. To sleep," he amends quickly, seeing Louis' eyes widen.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

They both change into joggers from Nick's bureau, sliding into bed without talking, quiet even after Nick has flicked off the lamp. When they're settled, Louis takes a breath and leans in to press a tentative kiss to Nick's lips, relief flooding through him when it's returned, soft and sweet. Trusting that they haven't completely fucked things up between them, he presses himself against Nick's side and falls asleep.

After that night, the kissing is easier and happens more often. Nights spent watching telly often devolve into evenings spent kissing on Nick's sofa; nights out end early enough that they can go back to Nick's, snogging in bed until they're nearly sober and falling asleep. It never goes on beyond that, though Louis knows that Nick is as into it as he is, can feel it in his breathlessness, the press of his fingertips against Louis' skin, his cock hard in his pants, just like Louis'.

It's friendly, that's all, a way to feel close to someone, a way to not feel so horribly alone all the time. Louis doesn't think about it too hard. It's nice, and it feels good, and when he's kissing Nick, he's not thinking about how Eleanor left him all alone.

*

When they're placed on opposing teams for their charity football match, Louis feels it's his obligation to take advantage of the opportunity to talk rubbish at Niall as much as possible as they run up and down the pitch. It backfires when Niall's team wins and Louis has to ride with him back to Niall's house.

"Talking shite all day and can't even back it up," Niall says, shooting Louis a pointed look.

"Football is a team sport, Horan." Louis did score one of his team's three goals, but there's only so much one player can do.

"Yep, and my team won," Niall gloats, grinning smugly from behind his Ray Bans.

He keeps up a steady stream of it all the way home, and Louis doesn't like listening to shit talk nearly as much as he likes dishing it out, even when it's coming from Niall's grinning mouth. At his house, Niall gets them beers from the fridge and is digging for takeaway menus, "It's your treat, Tommo, on account of your miserable defeat," he's saying when Louis hits his limit and surges forward, pressing his lips to Niall's in a rough kiss in a singular effort shut him up.

It works. Niall stops talking. And then he shocks the fuck out of Louis, kissing him back, stroking his tongue against Louis', hot and slick and tasting of beer. Niall pushes him back against the counter as he snogs him breathless, the hard edge of the marble digging into his lower back. It's hot and demanding and very nearly rough. It's fucking brilliant.

"Fuck, _Niall_."

When he pulls back, his lips are kissed dark pink, his eyes shining. "S'good, yeah?"

Louis sucks in a breath; surely this lightheaded feeling he has is the result of too little oxygen, nothing more. "Yeah, yeah, it's good."

They stay right there, snogging against the worktop in the kitchen, Niall's hand coming up to fist in the back of Louis' hair to keep him where he wants him - Jesus fucking Christ - until Niall's stomach gives an almighty rumble and Louis has to pull back to laugh.

Niall shrugs, scritching his fingernails gently against Louis' scalp before taking a step back to retrieve his phone from where it was abandoned on the counter. "Pizza, yeah?"

"Yeah," Louis answers, pretending he isn't completely breathless.

Niall calls in the order, and they don't talk about how they just kissed each other stupid, going on like it's any other night.

*

"How come you've never dated anyone seriously?"

Nick snorts a half-laugh, closing his menu and setting it on the table to give Louis a look. "Are you serious?"

"You're fit and successful. You're like, a catch, yeah?" He is, and surely Nick must know it. "What gives?"

"It takes a lot of work to be successful, doesn't it? It takes a lot of time to get to get to the serious bits with someone, and I'm rubbish at that anyway."

Louis scoffs. "I don't believe that."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a good friend, Nick. You've been good to me, and I know you were good to Harry when he was having a hard time. Half of being in a relationship is being friends."

"I'm good at that half," Nick concedes, "but I'm really shit at the rest. The compromise stuff. I can't be with someone who can't accept that my career comes first, and I haven't found anyone like that yet."

"I get that," Louis says, soft. "Eleanor was good about that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We were both on the same page about the stuff that matters. Wanted a lot of the same things." Successful careers, marriage, family.

"Did that change?" Nick asks, careful.

"I don't think so. I think...I guess I took for granted that she'd be willing to wait around for me," he says. "Like, she's finishing uni and looking into jobs and things, and I'm still doing the same things I was doing when we got together. I'm gone half the year and busy all the fucking time, and there's not a lot of room for compromise on my end." He shrugs. "I don't blame her for being done with me."

"It's hard." Nick looks thoughtful. "Finding someone who can deal with it all."

"Yeah." Louis pokes at the ice in his soda with his straw, idly wishing that he'd gotten a proper drink. "Like, I know that it wasn't anything I did, but that's almost worse, yeah? Because there wasn't anything I could've done differently. It wasn't ever going to work for us."

Nick looks at him for a moment, then smirks. "It is what it is, yeah?"

"Wanker," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Quoting my own bloody tattoos at me."

"It's good advice, is all."

"You're an idiot."

"Oi," Nick says mildly. Under the table, he hooks his foot behind Louis' ankle, a steady point of contact that makes something flutter just behind Louis' sternum.

*

Photos of Eleanor walking Bruce with another man show up on some gossip website one afternoon. Louis' Twitter followers helpfully link him to them, and like an idiot, he clicks.

He's not sure if it's the bloke she'd fallen for before they broke up. He's tall, dark-haired and broad-shouldered, smiling down at Eleanor in the photos, a dirty tennis ball in his hand. There's a bit of tightness at the corners of her mouth, but she's smiling, too, really smiling, Bruce's leash looped around her wrist.

He closes out of the Twitter app and taps through to text Niall. _Think we should go out tonight_

He's happy for her. He is. He's glad to see that Eleanor is doing well, even if it is without him. But it doesn't mean that it isn't hard to see.

*

Louis flops like a fish, flipping from his stomach to his back, glaring at the clock on his bedside table. It's half-twelve and he's been up since actual dawn, woken by an urgent call and then unable to get back to sleep. He's exhausted after four nights of trying - and mostly failing - to sleep in his own house like an actual adult. It's really not fair to keep imposing himself on Nick when he has to be up early for work, and while he probably would've been all right with imposing on Niall, he's vising family in Ireland.

He should be used to this, to being alone in his house, his bed. At Niall's suggestion he's gotten new linens, sheets and pillowcases and a duvet cover that Eleanor has never seen, let alone slept on. But new linens don't make the bed less empty, and that's the real problem.

He's tried falling asleep on the sofa watching telly, but he woke up with a crick in his neck at dawn the first time. He gave it another chance, but the second time he woke at four am and spent the rest of the night watching adverts for waterproof sealant and counter top grills, unable to fall back asleep. He's given up that option, but lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to turn off his insistently busy mind - it's shit. And fuck, he's so tired.

He climbs out of bed in a huff, trailing half of the duvet on the floor. He gets dressed and shoves his feet into a pair of trainers, grabbing the first keys he comes to. He can't be stuck in that fucking house - alone - any more.

He turns up the radio as loud as he can stand and drives, making turns that he thinks are random until he recognizes the neighborhood he's driving through as being near to Nick's, just a few blocks from his flat.

"'S wrong, Lou?" Nick answers his phone, mumbling in a way that means Louis definitely woke him up, even if it is Friday night.

He feels a little twinge of guilt at that, but he still asks, "Can I stay with you tonight?"

There's a little pause in which Louis thinks he hears a yawn. "Yeah. When-- Where are you?"

"On your street." Parallel parking in a spot about half a block down.

"Shit. Yeah, come on then."

"You have terrible bedhead," Louis greets when Nick opens the door to let him in.

"Ta, love," he answers, nose wrinkling. He's shirtless, pajama trousers slung low on his hips, a truly impressive rat's nest atop his head.

Louis is a little disappointed by the lack of venom - Nick is usually good for better than that - but he forgives it since Nick was clearly sleeping. He waits just long enough for Louis to toe out of his shoes, then takes his hand, gripping his fingers loosely to lead him down the dark hallway to his dark bedroom.

Nick tugs him close when Louis crawls in beside him, tucking Louis' head up under his chin, fingers piecing through the hair at the nape of his neck. It feels nice, warm and soothing curled up against Nick, tension draining out of his body as he sinks into the mattress. 

"I'm so tired," he whispers, a lump rising in his throat even as his eyelids begin to droop. Nick shushes him softly, and Louis is asleep before he can start to cry.

He wakes late the next morning, the duvet tugged up to his chin, the curtains still drawn. He's alone, because of course Nick is up before him, but he feels better than he has all week, almost approaching well-rested.

He finds Nick in the kitchen, sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading something on his iPad. Louis goes straight for the kettle, flicking it on and retrieving his favorite mug. He opens the cupboard for the tea - Yorkshire that Nick started buying when, he claimed, he ran out of patience for Louis whinging on about Nick's shit taste - and stands there at the counter to wait for it to brew, poking the bag with his little finger impatiently, scalding his skin.

He carries the tea with him to the table, sliding into the chair next to Nick and only then saying, "Thanks for last night."

Nick locks the iPad and sets it aside, flicking the cover closed. "Are you all right then?"

"Yeah." He shrugs, sips his tea. "A little less fucked up over it every day, but I was pretty fucked up, so..." He trails off, and Nick says nothing. "It's trying to sleep alone in that house that's the worst part now. I never had to before."

Nick grins suddenly. "You are a stupidly rich popstar," he says. "You could sell the house and get a new one."

Louis' so startled that he snorts a laugh into his tea. "That's not extreme or anything."

He's still laughing a little when Nick leans in and kisses him, short and sweet, one big hand curved around the side of his neck, the tips of his fingers playing at Louis' hairline. "You can sleep here any time," he says, still close enough that their lips brush with the words.

Louis nods, feeling strangely breathless. "Yeah. Okay."

Nick kisses him again, barely a brush of their lips together. "Finish your tea," he says, pushing back from the table. "I promised Pig we'd take her to the park."

*

"Let's go to the pub," Niall says, dropping his controller after Louis kicks his arse (again) at Mario Kart.

Louis snorts. "What, for the fifteen minutes it takes for Twitter to tell everyone where we are?"

"Nah," Niall says carelessly, standing and shoving a hand through his soft, unstyled hair. "I know a place."

And fuck if he doesn't. 

The pub he takes Louis to is near his house, small but clean, and most everyone there looks like a regular. There's a group watching rugby on the telly at one end of the bar, and another group watching some drama with a bunch of pretty girls in old-timey dresses and crowns in a far corner. Niall picks a table in the opposite corner and smiles at the middle-aged waitress that comes to take their order, and then there are pints and a basket of little soft pretzel bites with melted cheese and honey mustard sauce to dip them in.

"Not bad, Nialler," Louis concedes after they've polished off their second basket of pretzels with their third pints. "But you could've brought me to your secret spot ages ago." Because it's nice, being able to be out in public without security keeping overzealous fans at a safe distance, without looking about to see if anyone is snapping a sneaky photo.

Niall shrugs. "It's not a secret. Just never thought about it." There's a pause when the waitress brings fresh pints, clearing their little table. "Besides, you didn't need it before."

"What do you mean?"

"You had Eleanor," he says simply. "You didn't need to get away when we were home because you had Eleanor."

It stings, but only a little. Because it's true, yeah, and because it's starting to hurt a little less, thinking about how he doesn't have Eleanor any more. 

"That's fair enough," he says after a moment. "But you've deprived me of the opportunity to kick your arse at darts."

"Not feckin' likely," Niall scoffs, immediately pushing up out of his seat.

Louis does beat him at darts, gloating so exaggeratedly that Niall actually slugs him in the arm before challenging him to a game of pool. 

It's cute how seriously Niall takes the game, even as he starts in on his fifth pint and Louis is edging toward drunk. Niall breaks, lining up his shots carefully and sinking three balls before he falters.

"Rubbish," he declares, pushing himself into Louis' space to nudge him out of the way when Louis fails to make his first shot.

"Just trying to give you a fighting chance."

Niall snorts. "You're a shit liar, Tommo." He leans over to line up his shot, wriggling his arse as he does. He makes it look easy when he sinks the ball. "And you're shit at pool."

Louis shrugs, setting the butt of his cue on the floor and leaning against it, watching Niall circle the table to consider his next shot. He takes a drink of his beer, considering, licking his lips when he sets it aside and leans over to take his next shot.

Louis wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him, wants to press himself up against him and lick the taste of beer out of his mouth, knock his snapback off his head and bury his fingers in his messy hair.

He's so distracted that he only makes two shots the whole game, blaming the beer and suggesting that they go back to Niall's once he's had sufficient time to gloat over his victory.

"You don't want a rematch?" Niall asks, nudging him in the ribs with his elbow. "A chance to defend your honor?"

"Nah, you're right. I am shit at pool." He shrugs. "And I'm pretty pissed."

"Yeah," Niall nods. "All right, then." He lifts his glass to drain the last of it, bringing his thumb up to wipe away a drop that clings to his upper lip. "Let's go."

Louis waits until they're just inside of Niall's house, pressing him back against the door as soon as it's closed, his hands on Niall's shoulders. He kisses the inquisitive noise out of his mouth, soft and slow, licking over Niall's bottom lip before he pulls back. "I've been thinking about that all night."

"Yeah?" Niall shifts a little under the press of Louis' hands, eyes bright.

"Yeah."

"Right here against the door?"

"'s good a place as any."

Niall shakes his head then, pressing forward until Louis lets him go with not a little disappointment. Disappointment that recedes a bit when Niall takes his hand, leading him through the front hall and into the lounge, where he pushes him onto the sofa and climbs atop him.

"Better, yeah?"

Louis curses, low and emphatic, reaching up to knock off Niall's snapback and push his fingers into Niall's soft hair just like he imagined. "Yeah, yeah," he breathes out leaning up to kiss Niall again.

It's deep from the beginning, Niall enthusiastic and thorough, pushing Louis onto his back and settling himself between his legs, his tongue clever and insistent in Louis' mouth, his fingers tracing light, skittering paths over Louis' shoulders and his collarbones. He makes a soft grunting noise into Louis' mouth when Louis tugs at his hair to guide him the way he wants, going almost pliant for Louis' hands.

The lie there kissing until they're both half-asleep and boneless. Louis' mouth feels raw from the rub of Niall's slight stubble; he imagines Niall feels much the same and gets a little thrill from it.

Niall wobbles a bit when he pushes himself up off the sofa - off Louis. "C'mon," he mumbles sleepily, not waiting to see if Louis is going to follow before heading for the stairs.

Of course he must know that Louis will follow.

They both strip down to their pants before they climb into Niall's bed, neither of them saying anything when Niall presses himself against Louis' back, his arm banded around Louis' waist to keep him close.

*

Nick whines when Louis calls him on Friday afternoon to suggest a night out at a club. "I can't be bothered to look good tonight," he protests. "It's been a very long week."

It's not much of a hardship for Louis to go to Nick's instead, stopping off at the shop to buy a bottle of wine for Nick and a new toy for Pig, a squeaking, bouncing thing that she's thrilled to chase around the garden. Louis throws it for her while Nick lounges in a patio chair, fucking around on his phone.

"Are you sure you're not trying to convince my dog to love you better than me?" he asks drily. 

Louis looks up from where Pig is wriggling on her back in the grass, grunting, tongue lolling out of her mouth in what can only be described as a puppy smile. "Where have you been?" he asks. "Of course that's what I'm doing."

Nick unfolds his long limbs from the chair, crossing to where Louis is kneeling beside Pig, leaning down to kiss him soundly. Louis catches him by the front of his shirt when Nick tries to pull away, twisting his fingers into the fabric of his tee and rising up onto his knees to kiss him more thoroughly, swallowing Nick's little sound of surprise and curling his tongue up to trace a line along the roof of Nick's mouth.

"Enough of that," Nick finally says, pulling away and standing up straight. His cheeks are flushed pink, the color disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. "Let's go argue about what to order for dinner."

They're tucked into Nick's bed by half-ten ("I've been up since before the sun, Tomlinson."), snogging slowly, both of their heads on Nick's pillow. Louis' fingers are digging into the warm, bare skin of Nick's hip, the tips of his fingers tucked beneath the waistband of Nick's joggers. His hips stutter forward when Nick nips at his lower lip, making him gasp when the motion presses his cock up against Nick's, both of them half-hard just from kissing.

And it's easy, the easiest thing in the world, to slip his hand into Nick's pants, knuckles grazing the length of him. Nick curses, his hips jerking when Louis wraps his hand around him properly. He pulls away from Louis' mouth and sucks in a breath. "Are you sure?"

Louis presses his forehead against Nick's and looks down between them, watches the way his hand moves inside Nick's joggers for a moment. "Yeah. Nick, fuck."

Louis pulls Nick off fast and probably a little too rough, dry and out of practice at the beginning; it's been years since Louis had his hand on another bloke's cock. He remembers it quickly enough, thumbing over the head, tracing along the crown, teasing at the slit until Nick chokes out, " _Fuck_ ," pressing his forehead hard against Louis' collarbone and coming, hot and sticky over Louis' hand.

He flinches when Nick bites his collarbone, teeth sharp against his skin. "Fuck, Lou." He looks at Louis for a long moment, eyes blown and dark, then leans in to kiss him messily, sliding his hand into Louis' pants and gripping his cock, pulling him off without hesitation, motions sure and smooth. Louis would be embarrassed by how quickly he comes if it wasn't so fucking good, Nick cursing vehemently under his breath when Louis goes tense and spills.

Louis kisses Nick slowly while he comes down, fingers of his clean hand tangled up in the mess of Nick's hair. They kiss until their heartbeats slow and they've caught their breath, and do a half-assed job of cleaning up with tissues from Nick's bedside table before they fall asleep.

When he wakes in the morning, Nick is still in bed beside him, leaned up against the headboard, tapping away on his phone. "Hey," he greets softly when he sees Louis' eyes open.

"Why haven't you made tea?" Louis whines, rubbing his face against the pillow. "If you're awake, there should be tea."

Nick snorts, ruffling Louis' hair. He sets his phone aside and looks Louis in the eye. "Have any regrets about last night?" he asks flat out.

Louis blinks. "No." Nick doesn't move. "Nick, no." He pushes himself upright, leaning in to kiss Nick, morning breath be damned. "I don't regret it."

Nick finally smiles. "Good."

Louis flops back against the pillows, eying Nick, considering. "We could try it again if you bring me tea in bed."

Nick laughs, loud and sudden and genuine, making Louis smile. "I'm going to need more than a quick hand job before I'm convinced to bring your tea to bed, Tomlinson," he replies, flipping back the duvet and heading to the loo. "You know how to work a kettle."

Louis scowls. "You're a real prize, Grimshaw," he shouts. Nick's laugh is muffled by the closed bathroom door, but Louis hears it clear enough.

*

"Would you like to hear the stupid thing I did yesterday?"

"Of course," Matt Fincham replies through the radio.

"Well, my mum would be horrified, but I wasn't dressed for the weather."

"Oh dear," Fiona says.

"So I was freezing, and I didn't have time to go home and get a jumper, so I ducked into Topman for a jumper, right? Put it on and went about my business. It wasn't until I met a friend for drinks that I realized that I'd left the size sticker on." Fincham laughs. "Right down my left side, all day. So, to everyone who saw me yesterday and let me carry on like that: Thanks for being terrible."

Louis snorts into his tea as the music begins, rolling his eyes; Niall, standing at the hob flipping slices of eggy bread, cackles loudly. It feels...right, strangely enough, sitting in Niall's kitchen after spending the night in his bed, listening to Nick on the radio before breakfast. Louis already knows the story, of course. He was the friend who peeled the sticker off Nick's chest, taking the piss for the rest of the night.

"You seen him lately?" Niall asks, scooping the slices of bread out of the skillet onto a platter. Louis isn't sure why he's bothering when they're just going to put them on smaller plates and devour them, but if Niall wants more dirty dishes, that's his business. When he sets the platter in front of him, Louis forks three slices onto his plate, no hesitation.

"Who?" Louis asks, distracted by his hunger. 

"Nick."

"Oh. Yeah, just the other night. We went for drinks." _And we got back to his, he sucked my dick and I pulled him off, and we fell asleep naked,_ he doesn't say. But it was a really good night. 

Niall hums, shoving an enormous bite into his mouth, effectively ending the conversation.

There's a moment when Louis wonders if he should feel guilty, for spending one night with Nick and the next with Niall. It doesn't stop him kissing Niall later that afternoon, pressing him into the sofa cushions in the lounge and kissing him stupid while the FIFA startup menu plays on a loop in the background.

It's all just a bit of fun, after all.

*

The restaurant is one of those places that fancies itself half high-end restaurant and half-pub, with gourmet burgers and chips seasoned with truffles and flavored vinegars, and suggested beer pairings for each combination. It's a little bit too pretentious and self-aware for either Louis or Niall, but the food _is_ great, and their waitress is more than happy to bring them whichever beers they want to try, regardless of the suggestions printed on the menu.

And so they maybe have a pint or three too many each. It's fine. They're adults who can drink as much as they like, even if they are the sort of adults who get papped leaving, tripping over the threshold and laughing uproariously about it as they fall into the back of the cab.

They're just as graceful getting into Niall's house, tumbling through the front door and collapsing onto his sofa, their jackets tossed over the back of a chair, shoes in an untidy heap under the coffee table. It's with slightly more finesse that Niall kisses Louis, bearing him down into the sofa cushions, slotting their legs together. He kisses Louis slow and dirty, sucking on his tongue, nipping a line of stinging sharp bites along his jaw before tracing the shell of his ear with the tip of his tongue and pulling Louis' earlobe into his mouth to worry it between his teeth. Louis gasps and clings, fisting his hand in the back of Niall's shirt and then his hair, allowing himself to be taken along for the ride. 

Louis hasn't been kissed like this in ages, maybe not since he was a teenager, just another boy in Doncaster, failing his A-levels and resigning himself to never being anything more. This - with Niall's fingers tugging at the hair just above his ear and his thigh pressed against where Louis is half-hard in his jeans - is better.

He's caught up in it, Niall's tongue in his mouth and the solid press of his thigh between his legs, so Niall has already thumbed open the button on his jeans and is pulling down the zip when Louis realizes what's happening and pulls away, mumbling, "Wait, wait."

Niall is flushed, pushing up onto his elbow to look down at him, breathless and hooded-eyed, and Jesus fucking _wept_. "I want to-- fuck, Niall, so much, I." He sucks in a breath, shoving a hand through his hair. "But I've been--" He cuts himself off, not sure exactly what to say. Seeing someone? Seeing Nick? "I've been," he gestures vaguely between them, "with Nick."

Niall blinks once, and then, as if what Louis said wasn't entirely unexpected, "Are you dating or whatever? Like, exclusive?"

"No."

"Then I don't see the problem."

Louis almost laughs, because of course Niall doesn't see a problem. "Nialler, I love you too much to let this fuck us up," he says, barely louder than a whisper.

"This," Niall says with a pointed glance between them down their bodies, hips twitching down against Louis' thigh just the tiniest bit, "could never fuck us up, Lou, I promise. But if you don't want to--"

" _Fuck_ , Niall, I do want to, I do," Louis bursts out, surging up to kiss him, their teeth clacking when Niall's elbow slips.

It's a different kiss for them, a kiss that they both know is leading somewhere, and that's just as good as what they had before, or better, maybe. Louis' brain isn't doing much higher reasoning, getting caught up in what it feels like when Niall finishes tugging down Louis' zip, his hand slipping down inside his jeans to press against his cock through his pants. He groans, rocking up into the pressure and fumbling to reciprocate.

Niall bites down on Louis' bottom lip when he gets a hand around him, mumbling an apology at the hurt sound that Louis lets out, licking over the bite, then pressing his face against Louis' neck with a curse. He's fully hard in Louis' hand, hot and wet at the tip when Louis thumbs over it, and apparently distracted enough by it that his hand stops moving against Louis' cock, just a resting, steady pressure that Louis grinds up against while he works Niall over.

He comes with a groan, mouthing at the side of Louis' neck, breath hot and damp. He sucks in two long, shuddering breaths, then pushes up onto his hands and knees so he's kneeling over Louis, looking down at him like there isn't another person in the world. "Lou." 

" _Shit_ ," he swears emphatically when Niall hooks his fingers in the waistband of his jeans and tugs them, with his pants, halfway down his thighs. And again when Niall ducks his head to lick over the head of his cock, his fist wrapped around the base to keep him steady when he goes down properly, tongue tracing along the vein.

He comes so fast he'd be embarrassed if he was with anyone else, just managing to tug on Niall's hair in warning, breath catching in his throat when Niall hollows his cheeks and redoubles his efforts instead of pulling off like Louis expects.

"Fuck," Niall says succinctly, leaning his forehead against Louis' hipbone. Louis hums his agreement, stroking his clean hand through the hair at the back of Niall's head while he waits for a few more of his brain cells to regenerate.

*

He spends two more nights with Niall - hanging out and getting off - before Nick rings to see where he's been. Louis gives him a vague sort of answer and agrees to go to Nick's for dinner, and begins to agonize about the whole thing as soon as they've rung off.

Because Niall knows about Nick, and Louis owes it to Nick to tell him the truth, too, even if he's terrified to do it. He's so afraid of losing Nick that it makes his stomach ache. They've been friends for ages, but since Eleanor finished with him, Nick has become one of the most important people in Louis' life, too important to have him going anywhere.

But then, people leave Louis. They always have, since he was a baby who surely couldn't have done anything wrong, so it must not be that hard a thing to do, to leave him behind. Who's to say that Nick won't write him off as a slag when he learns that Louis' been getting off with Niall too?

He stresses about it all afternoon, forcing himself to concentrate on replying to business emails and distractedly checking his phone whenever his mind starts to wander. By the time he leaves for Nick's early that evening, his battery is in the red. He plugs it in to charge and tries not to fiddle with it any more when he's waiting at lights on the drive over.

"I was going to cook," Nick says when he answers the door, "but it turns out I'm a lazy sod, so I'll let you choose what we order for takeaway."

"D'you think we could talk first?" Louis asks, his mouth moving faster than his mind, per usual. His face goes hot when Nick turns to look at him.

"Is someone dying?"

"No," Louis says, aghast. "I just...haven't been entirely honest with you about some things, and I owe you the truth."

Nick blinks. "I'm going to make tea," he says abruptly.

"Nick--"

"Just a minute," he interrupts, filling the kettle and flicking it on. Louis leans against the edge of the counter beside him, catching the nervous tremble of Nick's fingers as he sets two mugs on the worktop before opening the cupboard to get the tea.

"Nick." Nick's hands still for a fraction of a second, and Louis decides that the best course of action is to just spit it out. "I've been getting off with Niall, too." And. Well. Maybe he could've worded it better, but there it is.

It's quiet for a long moment. The kettle comes to boil and clicks off, but neither of them reaches for it. "So we're done then?" Nick says, and it takes a moment for Louis to hear that it's a question.

"I don't want to be."

Nick isn't looking at him. "What about Niall?"

"He knows. And I...I just don't know how to choose. Between you."

And he hadn't ever thought that before, but that's just it, isn't it? He wants them both, loves them both, doesn't know how he would begin to deal if he didn't have them both. Just the thought of it punches through him, makes his stomach roil queasily.

When Nick doesn't say anything, he whispers, "I wasn't trying to lead you on."

Nick looks at him, finally. "Lou, I didn't even think that," he says, shaking his head a little. "And I...I don't think you have to choose. Not for my sake, anyway."

Louis' chest goes tight. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Nick grins. "And from what you said, I think Niall would agree." He finally reaches for the kettle, pouring water into both mugs. "If you," he finally begins, stirring the tea bags with a spoon. "I'm your friend no matter what, Lou. With or without the...kissing." He quirks a half-smile. "I won't hold it against you."

"I know that," Louis replies immediately, because he does. "But I want it all." Because he does, he really, really does, and maybe that makes him horrible and selfish, but it's what he wants.

"C'mere," Nick murmurs, opening his arms and folding Louis into a hug, one had curved around the back of his neck while he holds him tight against his chest. They linger, and Louis clings until Nick pulls back, ducking his head to brush a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I think we should order curry," Louis says suddenly, rising up onto his toes to smack a kiss to Nick's cheek.

Nick plucks the teabags out of their mugs, tossing them in the bin. "All right."

*

Over the next few weeks, Louis only spends two nights alone at his own house. His belongings are scattered between Nick's and Niall's, clothes and shoes, mostly, though his laptop is on Nick's kitchen table and he's not at all sure where his iPad has gotten to. On a given day he might smell of Niall's eucalyptus shower gel or Nick's posh argan oil shampoo, which he replenishes without mentioning it to Nick when he notices that it's nearly empty.

It's different, staying with each of them, of course. Niall's house is tidy nearly to the point of austerity, drawn back from the edge by plush furniture and the soft, cozy blankets he keeps stashed all over the place. The only stray things lying around are Louis', and Niall's forever tidying his shoes into the hall closet or folding up his abandoned hoodies. Nick's house, on the other hand, is never entirely tidy, scattered with stacks of post and borrowed books, random things left behind by his friends, and Pig's toys. Louis adds to that mess, too.

He lets himself into Niall's house, dropping his keys in the bowl on the sideboard and toeing out of his shoes. He curses under his breath as he goes deeper into the house; Niall runs warm and keeps the thermostat turned down so low that his floors are freezing under Louis' bare feet.

"It's quiet in here," he says when he finds Niall in the kitchen, water running at the sink as he does the washing up. He hops up to sit on the counter next to the sink, sparing his feet from the tile.

Niall shrugs, turning off the faucet. He taps at the side of Louis' knee, prompting him to lift his legs so Niall can retrieve a towel from the drawer. "How was your appointment?"

"Fine. Suppose my teeth are cleaner." Niall grins. "And no cavities. I think I've earned an ice cream."

"Is that so?"

"That's how my mum always did it." When he was a kid it was store-brand vanilla with sprinkles if there were any left from the last batch of birthday cupcakes, but that isn't the point.

"I've got a carton of mint chip in the freezer," Niall offers. Louis makes a face. "Am I driving to the shop then, or are you?"

"You can," he answers, smiling brilliantly.

Niall buys him two scoops of something called Caramel S'more Crunch and teases him ruthlessly when he gives himself an ice cream headache, slurping at the sides of his own triple chocolate cone as it melts.

*

When he first started sleeping at Nick's, he'd get up and leave with him when he went to work during the week, driving home blearily to fall into his own bed, where he would lie awake for a couple of hours before giving it up as a lost cause. But he's found that staying at Nick's - waking up with his alarm and dozing in bed while he gets ready, leaning up to kiss him goodbye when he leaves - gives him another couple of hours to sleep. Sometimes he gets up just after Nick's gone, makes himself a cup of tea, and snuggles with Pig on the sofa while he listens to the show.

That's where he is when Nick gets home, the radio still playing softly in the background, Pig asleep on Louis' feet at the end of the sofa. Louis is only barely awake himself, blinking slowly when Nick comes into the living room. "Hey."

Nick mumbles a greeting, coming to perch on the edge of the sofa by Louis' hip. His hair is a bit floppy, and he's wearing his glasses. He looks sort of soft, sleepy and a little worn down. He leans into it when Louis pushes his hand into the hair above his ear, eyes fluttering closed when he massages the tips of his fingers into Nick's scalp.

"All right?" he asks softly.

Nick takes a deep breath that comes out on a sigh, his shoulders slumping further. "Tired. Slept like rubbish." He opens his eyes when Louis' fingers still for just a second. "Bit of insomnia."

Louis resolves, silently, to stay at his own house tonight, to give Nick a chance to get a proper night's sleep. "C'mere," he says, tugging a bit at Nick's hair until he takes the hint and lies down, pressed close to Louis, pinning him against the back of the sofa, slotting their legs together. Pig snorts when the movement jostles her awake, hopping down and padding to her own little bed in the corner. "We'll just have a kip." He takes Nick's glasses off carefully, folding them and reaching above his head to blindly set them on the side table.

Nick hums, brushing his nose against Louis' in an eskimo kiss once, twice, then ducks his head, tucking himself into Louis' neck like he's the small one.

They sleep like that all afternoon, waking up disoriented and starving in the grey light of twilight. Louis finds a bag of frozen tortellini when he goes rummaging, cooks it up with sauce from a jar and butters slices of bread. They eat on the sofa, an episode of _Top Gear_ on the telly even though they're not really watching, Nick talking about the Call or Delete segment he recorded with Florence before he came home that will air on tomorrow's show.

"Want a brew?" he asks when they've both finished eating, taking Louis' plate when he stands to go to the kitchen.

"Nah," Louis answers, snorting a laugh when Nick stops short halfway across the room and turns to look at him. "Think I'm going to head home, actually."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "It's been a few days. Ought to make sure no one's broken in and robbed me blind." Nick fixes him with a disbelieving look. "It'll be good to sleep in my own bed."

"Louis, that's literally why you started coming over here," Nick says flatly. "What the fuck?"

"Leave it alone, yeah?" 

Louis stands, meaning to go track down the hoodie he was wearing when he got here yesterday, but he stops when Nick says, "If you want to go to Niall's, just tell me. It's fine."

"I'm not going to Niall's."

"It's fine, Lou," Nick says again. He's still standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, their dinner plates in hand. "Just don't make excuses."

" _Nick_. I'm not going to Niall's," he insists.

"Then what the fuck?"

"I was trying not to be a selfish bastard for once!" he bursts out. "I was going to leave you alone so you could actually sleep!"

Nick's confusion is written plain on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"We slept all afternoon because you couldn't sleep last night."

"Jesus, Louis, that didn't have anything to do with you." He turns on his heel to go into the kitchen, the plates clattering when he sets them in the sink. Louis follows because he can't not, finding Nick setting the kettle to boil.

"It wasn't me?" His voice is quieter than he means for it to be.

"We had a ratings meeting after the show this morning," Nick says. "I'm always worried about the numbers. Used to get all anxious over it for weeks, but now it's just a few days."

"Oh." Louis watches Nick drop teabags into two mugs. "How did it go?"

"Fine. We're up."

"Good."

"Yeah."

The kettle clicks off, and Nick pours, steam rising up above both mugs. It's been years since Louis has felt this uncomfortable with Nick, and he hates it. "I wouldn't do that, you know," he says finally. "Lie to you about spending time with Niall."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Nick. But this...it's not like that."

"I know," Nick says again, more insistent. He tugs at the string on his teabag. "Are you still going back to yours?"

"I'll drink my tea first." Nick nods, not looking at him. "Unless you want me to stay."

"I want you to stay. And if I didn't want you here, I'd say so, yeah?"

"Yeah. All right."

He stays, but there's no kissing that night, and Louis lies awake long after Nick has fallen asleep.

*

He can't stop thinking about it is the thing.

Does Nick think that Louis is with Niall whenever he isn't with Nick? (He is.) Does Niall think that nights spent away from him are spent with Nick? (They are.) Louis hadn't considered what either of them thought, whether either of them thought about the other, but Nick obviously does.

So how much of a dick is Louis, being with both of them like this?

He and Niall are making a half-arsed attempt at writing a song one afternoon, Niall plucking out melodies on a guitar while Louis plays around on the piano. They're at his for once, though the house still feels too big and a little stale even with Niall there. Louis isn't even trying to come up with any lyrics; everything comes out as jumbled and confused as the inside of his head.

"Niall."

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from his guitar, where he's fiddling with tuning one string.

"Does it bother you, me spending time with Nick?"

"What? No."

"Even knowing that when I'm not sleeping at yours, I'm at his?"

Niall looks up at that. "What're you on about?"

"Does it bother you?" Louis repeats, at a loss. "Like, do you wish I wasn't with Nick? Or do you wish I was with you instead?"

"I don't--" Niall looks as confused as Louis feels. "You can do whatever you want, Lou. I want you to do what you want." He plucks the string he was fiddling with and makes a face, apparently unsatisfied. "Does it bother Nick? You being with me."

"No." He feels wrong about mentioning what happened the other night, so he doesn't. 

"Lou, I want you to be happy, yeah? And if getting off with both of us makes you happy, that's fine with me."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," Niall insists. He grins. "You can blow me though. Like, if it'll make you feel better."

Louis kicks out at his shin, a glancing blow. "Dickhead."

He shrugs. "Worth a shot."

Louis blows him later. Because he wants to, not because he feels guilty.

Mostly.

*

_I'm going to be in London for the week, and I think Bruce misses you. Meet me at the park one afternoon?_

It's the first time Eleanor has texted him since she ended things, and he's genuinely surprised by how little it makes him feel. It's been ages since he's thought about her properly, and thinking about her now hardly hurts at all. He texts her back to set up a time and retrieves the blue-and-orange ball from beneath the hedge in preparation for his date with Bruce.

It's cold when he leaves the house to meet Eleanor, but it isn't raining, a win for London. He wears a parka over his hoodie, Bruce's ball tucked in the pocket, and he stops at Starbucks just before he goes to the park where they agreed to meet. Eleanor is waiting where they said, standing just inside the gate of the little fenced off area for dogs, a red beanie atop her head. Bruce appears to be running laps with a chocolate lab in a pink collar.

"Hey," he greets, stepping through the gate. It clangs shut behind him.

"Hi. Thanks for coming."

"I couldn't miss a chance to see Bruce." He hands her the Starbucks cup. "Chai latte."

She looks surprised for a moment; Louis hates chai, so she knows he got it for her. "Thanks."

Bruce abandons his new lab friend when Louis calls, charging across the dead grass to jump up on him, laving his face with puppy kisses and jumping around excitedly. "I missed you, too, buddy," Louis tells him, scratching between his ears, rubbing his belly when he flops over and shows it.

Bruce goes mental when Louis produces the ball from his pocket, jumping around and standing up on his back legs until Louis chucks it. He nudges Eleanor with his elbow while he waits for Bruce to bring the ball back. "I like the hair." It's a shade darker than it was before and she's added extensions, the length of it spilling around her shoulders from beneath her beanie.

"Thanks." She waits until Louis praises Bruce for bringing the ball back and throws it again. "I saw that you've been spending time with Nick."

"Yeah. He's a good friend."

"Is that all he is?"

"What are you insinuating?" he asks, defensive.

"I'm not insinuating anything, Louis, I'm asking." She waits for him to toss the ball again. "I just know how to recognize the look you give someone when you really like them."

He considers his answer carefully, watching Bruce stumble over his own big feet in his rush to fetch the ball. El may have broken his heart, but that doesn't mean that he can't trust her with his secrets. "It's a thing, kind of," he finally says. "I don't really know what to call it."

"Are you sleeping with him?"

"Yes."

She bumps him with her hip, grinning over the top of her latte. "Is it good?"

To his own astonishment, he actually blushes. "It really is."

"Good for you then," she says, eyes on him even as Bruce drops the ball at her feet. "I'm glad."

Louis watches her scoop up the ball, heedless of the dirt and dog slobber, and chuck it, sending it bouncing across the grass. "It's not just Nick," he blurts, because he wants to talk about it, and he does trust her. "Me and Niall," he starts, but doesn't finish, trusting that she still knows him well enough that he won't have to.

Her eyes go a bit wide with the realization. "Do they know about each other?"

"Yes," Louis says emphatically. "They both know, and they're both okay with it, but I'm not sure that I am any more."

"D'you like one of them more than the other?"

"I'm in love with both of them."

It's the first time he's said it; it's the first time he's even acknowledged it that way to himself, instead of thinking of Nick and Niall as two entirely separate parts of his life. Technically speaking, they are, but they're sharing this part of Louis, the part that's _in love_ with someone, and that hardly seems fair, does it?

He wonders if maybe he shouldn't have told Nick and Niall that he was in love with them before he told Eleanor, but what's done is done, and besides, that's not a thing you just _say_. There's a moment when you're supposed to say it; not a contrived, choreographed romantic moment, necessarily. No, you're supposed to say it in a moment when you really _feel_ it, when your head and your heart are so full of it that you can't think of anything else to say.

"That's great, Lou," Eleanor says, eyes as soft as her voice.

"How is that great?" he asks, disbelieving. "I can't love two people at once."

"Of course you can," she says, dismissive. "You already do."

"What good is loving someone if you can't be with them?" he asks, soft. It isn't lost on him that not so long ago, he was still in love with her, despite her not wanting him; he knows that it isn't lost on her either. "I can't be with both of them."

"Why not?"

Louis fumbles Bruce's ball, dropping it at his feet instead of throwing it. Bruce obediently picks it up and puts it back in Louis' hand for him to throw. "That isn't a thing that people do."

"It is," Eleanor insists. "I have a friend at uni, she has a girlfriend and a boyfriend, and they're all together, the three of them. It's a thing that people do."

"That's mad." She shrugs, sipping her latte. "Even if it wasn't, I can't just ask for something like that."

"You can ask for anything," she says, like it's just that easy, "you just have to accept whatever the answer is."

Louis throws the ball for Bruce twice more without saying anything, considering everything that Eleanor has said. He can't actually see how it would work out, but maybe it isn't completely impossible. "What about you? Are you happy?"

She smiles, lovely and sincere, one of his favorites of all her smiles. "I am."

"Seeing someone?"

"No," she says, still smiling, softer. "That...it didn't work. But that's okay. I'm still good."

"Good," he says. And he means it.

They make plans to meet again before she goes back to Manchester, and after giving him another good scratch behind the ears (and getting another sloppy kiss), Louis bids Eleanor and Bruce goodbye. 

He thinks about what she said on his way home. It's okay to love more than one person, which, okay. So he loves Nick and Niall, both of them. He's in love with both of them, for a million different reasons, and he can't imagine choosing one over the other. They know about each other, and they're each okay with Louis having sex with the other.

And multiple people can be in a relationship together. Apparently that's a thing that real people do sometimes. It's not how Louis has ever imagined his relationships - of course, despite being bisexual, Louis has always imagined himself in long-term relationships with women, married to a woman, having kids with a woman. Just because he hasn't imagined something doesn't mean that it isn't possible.

Maybe, Louis thinks. Maybe someday he'll be brave enough to talk about it with them.

*

It's the middle of the afternoon the first time Louis fucks Nick.

Louis spent half the day sitting in fuck boring meetings about the record label. (He knows they're important, and he takes them seriously, but that doesn't mean that they aren't _boring_.) He's somewhere between exhausted and restless when he gets to Nick's, toeing out of his shoes and hanging his jacket. "Nick?"

"In here."

He finds Nick sprawled on his bed, face down and motionless. "Are you all right?"

Nick grunts into his pillow. "Knackered."

"Late night?" Louis asks, climbing up to lie beside him. When he puts his head on the pillow, Nick cracks one eye open to look at him.

"Douglas convinced me to stay until he left," he says. "It was so late."

"What, eleven o' clock?"

"Piss off."

Louis snickers. "Have a kip, then."

"No. If I do that, I'll be up all night tonight." He flops onto his back dramatically. "Entertain me."

Louis responds by draping himself across Nick's chest and kissing him soundly.

He doesn't mean to start something, not really, but he certainly doesn't pull back when Nick deepens the kiss, doesn't protest when he pushes Louis' shirt up over his head before peeling off his own. It feels good, kneeling over Nick, peppering little kisses along his jaw, testing his earlobe with his teeth, feeling his pulse throb against his tongue. He shoves at Nick's trousers, getting his hand inside his pants so he can wrap it around Nick's cock, wanking him slowly.

"Christ, Louis." Nick arches beneath him, fisting his hand in the back of Louis' hair when he circles his thumb around the crown. "Lou. Fuck me."

Louis' hand stills. "Nick--"

"I mean it. Fuck me." His eyes are bright and shiny, his pupils dilated huge. "There's lube and condoms in the drawer, come on. Louis."

"Okay." Louis kisses him again, dragging his hand down Nick's cock and up again in a slow, sure stroke. "Yeah, okay."

It's not the first time that Louis' fucked a bloke, but it's been years, long before Eleanor and the band. He's careful, so careful, opening Nick slowly on one, two, three fingers, seeking out his prostate and teasing over it until Nick is a babbling mess, begging Louis to, _just fuck me already_.

He pauses when his hips meet Nick's arse, cock pressed deep. Nick is looking up at him, eyes wide and cheeks pink, one hand clutching Louis' bicep. "All right?" Louis whispers.

"Yeah," Nick says. "Yeah, Lou. _Move_."

By now, Louis' see Nick come dozens of times, shuddering and twitching, his eyes going wide for just a moment before they fall shut, the hitch of his breath just before he tips over the edge. But it's different to watch Nick fall apart like this, with Louis inside him, to feel him go impossibly tighter from the inside, blunt fingernails biting into Louis' shoulder blade when he clings, the rumble of his moan in his chest setting Louis off just behind him.

Louis pulls out carefully, pitching the condom in the bin before flopping half-atop Nick. "Holy shit."

Nick mumbles something incoherent, tilting Louis' face up with gentle fingers so he can kiss him, a sweet little thing with just the barest touch of his tongue to Louis' bottom lip. "Not gonna freak out, are you?"

"No." It's the truth, or as near to it as Louis can tell.

He shifts enough to get the duvet pulled up over the two of them, shifting his head on his pillow. "Let's have a kip then."

"Thought you didn't want to sleep."

"Shh," he murmurs, tugging gently at the back of Louis' hair. "Sleep."

Louis snorts his amusement, but he's asleep within minutes, head pillowed comfortably against Nick's shoulder.

*

It's too cold out for grilling, but Niall insists that it's the only way to prepare the steaks he bought. Louis stays in the kitchen where it's warm, keeping his eye on the sides warming on the hob, while Niall darts in and out the back door, a beanie pulled down over his ears while he mans the grill on the patio.

"Just admit that I was right," he says later. Louis pushes his empty plate away and tilts his head.

"It was delicious. Well done, Nialler."

"Admit that they had to be grilled."

Louis shrugs. "Maybe they didn't _have_ to be, but they were good."

"You're an arse," Niall declares, pushing away from the table and scooping up Louis' plate to take to the sink.

"I said it was good!" Niall scoffs, rinsing their plates and silverware before putting it in the dishwasher. "Niall. You aren't really upset?" He gets up from the table and walks into the kitchen proper, going to stand next to the open dishwasher. "You know I love you for feeding me."

"Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes and laughs when Louis continues to look at him with concern. "You'll owe me one, yeah?"

"Yeah," Louis says, but it's a little faint. He's caught up, a little, in how he just told Niall that he loves him for about the millionth time ever, but it didn't feel the same as it has every time before. "Niall."

Niall is concentrating on putting detergent in the dishwasher and closing the door. "Hmm?" 

"I really do. Love you." Niall looks up then and blinks at him. "I'm in love with you."

Niall kisses him then, leaning back against the counter and pulling Louis against him. "Love you, too, Lou," he murmurs against his mouth. They stand there in the kitchen, snogging against the counter through the dishwasher's entire cycle.

Later, Louis winds up stretched out beneath Niall in bed, clutching at the duvet while Niall mouths at his cock, one lube-slick finger teasing at his prostate. Niall's concentrating all of his attention on the head of Louis' cock, tracing his tongue around the ridge, smudging his lips over the tip, and Louis' breath hitches whenever the pad of Niall's finger slides over his spot. He squeezes his eyes shut and groans, trying not to be overwhelmed by the too much of it all.

Niall drops down a bit lower, hollowing his cheeks and stroking over Louis' spot all at once. " _Fuck_ ," he spits. "Niall. Niall, I want - "

Louis opens his eyes when Niall pulls off to look up at him. "What do you want?" he asks. Louis can tell from the look on his face - teasing and a little smug - that he knows exactly what Louis wants.

" _Please_."

Niall smirks. "Hafta ask for what you want, else you'll never get it," he says. He slips a second finger in alongside the first, the burning stretch of it so good Louis moans.

" _Fuck_. Fuck, Niall, fuck me," he spits, hips twitching down into Niall's hand as he gets used to the stretch of two fingers. "Will you?"

Niall scissors his fingers, looking pleased when Louis moans again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, yes, Ni."

Niall knows that he's only done this a few times before, none of them with any great success. Louis thinks that must be part of why he's so careful, generous with the lube and gentle when he's stretching him open. His fingers are clever, finding all the best spots and lingering enough to distract him from the slight burn, and he kisses him through it, slow and deep.

"All right?" he whispers into Louis' mouth.

He whines, arching up, hand sliding across the hot skin of Niall's shoulder to clutch at the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah." He swallows hard. "More. I - " He has to cut himself off to make a noise when Niall twists his fingers just right. "I'm ready, Niall, please."

Niall blinks at him, wide-eyed. "Yeah, all right."

He pulls his fingers free almost reluctantly, sitting back on his heels to roll on the condom and slick himself up. Louis watches, stroking himself slowly, anticipation quivering low in his belly alongside his arousal. "How do you want me?"

"Jesus Christ," Niall swears, circling his hand around the base of his cock. "Whatever you want, Lou."

He doesn't hesitate, turning onto his stomach and getting his knees underneath himself so he's arse-up, leaned down on his elbows, one hand slid beneath the pillow so Niall can't see how tightly he's clutching at it. "Come on then," he says when Niall swears behind him. He wiggles his arse a little, looking back over his shoulder. "Fuck me, Niall."

Niall shakes his head, knee-walking forward. "Impatient bastard." Louis lets his head drop between his shoulders a bit when Niall finally touches him, sliding his hands over his arse and hips, up his sides and then skimming down either side of his spine. He pulls Louis' cheeks apart with his hands, just gently, teasing his thumb over Louis' hole, slipping just the tip inside.

"Niall. Niall, _please_."

"Yeah," he mumbles, shuffling closer. Louis bites back a whimper when he feels the head of Niall's cock snub up against his hole. "Got you, Lou."

There's a burning stretch at first, and it hurts, but Louis likes it in spite of himself, consciously relaxes into it until it shifts a little and begins to feel good. It's different than fingers - more, better, and he's panting with how good it is, how much better this is than any time than he'd done this before. There's a fleeting wonderment - is it better because he knows what he's doing this time, or because it's Niall? - that gets lost when Niall's cock drags over Louis' spot, sparks of pleasure skittering though his veins.

It takes no time at all for him to feel the orgasm building, grinding back into Niall's thrusts and getting a hand around himself, stroking in time as best he can. Niall has draped himself over Louis back and is mouthing at the back of his neck and across his shoulders, teeth testing the skin there. His hand falters when Niall gives a particularly hard thrust, nailing his prostate and making him cry out. "O-oh. Niall, fuck."

Niall groans into his ear, bringing his hand around to Louis' cock, so they're both working him together, Louis fucking back into the Niall and forward into their hands until he comes, like he never has before. He chokes back a sob, clenching down so tightly around Niall that he hisses, his hips stuttering while Louis spills hot over their hands. His rhythm is still off as Louis starts to come down a bit, but he's fucking in hard, three times, five, until he comes with a deep groan against the back of Louis' neck.

Niall pulls out carefully, peeling off the condom and chucking it in the bin before collapsing to the side, tugging Louis down to the mattress with him. "All right?" 

Louis turns onto his back, looking at Niall's flushed face. "Fuck, Niall." He grins when Louis reaches out to pinch his pink cheek.

"Good?"

Louis tugs his hair gently, leaning in to kiss his lips, soft and sweet. "So good." He kisses him again, just light. "Thank you."

Niall scoffs quietly, shaking his head and pulling Louis in again, fingers trailing along his collarbone as they kiss.

*

Late Friday afternoon, Louis sprawls across his sofa, restless and frustrated. He's also tired, having stayed at home the night before - Niall went out with Laura and Bressie, and Nick had promised Fincham that he would be to work early the next morning. He's trying to decide what he wants to do for the night; Niall has texted about a night in, Nick has texted about a night out, and Louis hasn't responded to either.

If he's being honest with himself, Louis has to acknowledge that what he really wants is to be with _both_ of them. Together. All of them out to the club Nick's friend is DJing, then going back to Niall's to sprawl on the big sofa.

He has no idea how to even begin to propose a night like that to either of them.

It should be easier with Niall, really. He knows everything about Niall, and Niall knows everything about him; there isn't anything left to be embarrassed over. Except for how Louis has no idea how to begin to tell him that he wants to have Niall and Nick both, together at the same time. And that's not to say anything about how to start that conversation with Nick.

He groans aloud. There are people who do this, he knows, but he still can't make himself think of it as normal. Because it's not, is it? Normal is two people in a relationship, two people in love with each other, and no one else involved. They're already giving him so much that he can't ask them for anything more.

And he can't choose one of them over the other, not forever. Not even for the night, it turns out. He texts them both back, begging off, claiming that he's got a Skype call with the twins planned. It's a lie. He spends the rest of the night alone, ordering takeaway and watching Marvel films on one of the movie channels.

*

Louis jolts when Nick bites down on the skin just to the inside of his hipbone, eyes flying open. Nick is kneeling between his thighs, naked and soft-haired, looking up at him with hot eyes, lips kissed deep pink. "Will you let me do something for you?" he asks.

"You mean besides sucking my cock?" Louis asks, grinning when Nick huffs a laugh. His hips twitch up incrementally when Nick ducks his head to lay another sucking kiss low against his abdomen. "What then?"

Nick catches his gaze. "Let me lick your arse." Louis can feel the flush that stains his cheeks. "Have you ever?"

"Not really."

"Not really," Nick repeats. palm sliding along the crease of Louis' hip, and it shouldn't be so sexy, so fucking distracting, but it is.

"Not properly," Louis clarifies. Before El, he'd been with a girl or two who might dart down for a lick or two mid blow job, but he doesn't think that's what Nick intends to do. He can't say that he's never thought about it; it felt good, if a bit weird, those flashes of it he'd had, but he's never been brave enough to ask for it.

Nick's eyes blaze. "D'you want to do it properly?"

Louis swallows. "Do you?"

Nick moans, low and soft, ducking his head again to nuzzle at Louis' cock where it's lying against his stomach, mostly hard. "Yes, Lou. I want to." His tongue flicks out against the head of Louis' cock, barely even a tease. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

If he didn't trust Nick like he does, Louis would be worried about the way that he grins, hot and anticipatory. "Turn over, love."

Nick kneels up on the bed while Louis turns over onto his knees, elbows on the mattress, facing the headboard. He jolts when Nick drapes himself over Louis' back, mouth against Louis' ear. "Your arse is perfect," he mutters. It startles a laugh out of Louis, any tension that had begun to build between them draining away when he turns his head to catch Nick's mouth in a kiss. "I mean that."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before," Louis answers airily. He wiggles it a bit, biting his tongue when Nick snorts. "Get to it then, Grimshaw."

He freezes up when Nick moves down his body, settling between Louis' legs, his hands coming to rest on Louis' hips. He nearly flinches when Nick presses his lips to his tailbone in a dry kiss. "Relax," he murmurs.

"If you'd get on with it."

Nick's hands slip around to Louis' arsecheeks, pulling him open gently. "Relax," he says again, warm air washing over Louis' hole before Nick's mouth is there, a gentle press of damp lips and a flick of his tongue that has Louis sucking a gasp of air and clenching a pillow in his hands.

And _fuck_ , he feels so much, even with Nick just licking softly over his rim, little brushes of his lips. It's electric, skittering currents just beneath his skin and buzzing in his blood, pleasure radiating out from that one little spot - his arsehole, _fuck_ \- where Nick is drawing the point of his tongue in a swirling pattern that feels completely mad, breath hot and damp against Louis' skin.

He swears, low and quiet, his head dropping to hang between his shoulders when Nick begins to lick out with more pressure, his hands flexing on Louis' hips. He shifts, widening his knees on the mattress, arching into it when Nick presses with the flat of his tongue, humming a low moan into Louis' arse that makes him twitch and curse.

Nick slides one of his hands up the line of Louis' spine, his palm coming to rest flat and warm just between Louis' shoulder blades. "All right?"

And Louis absolutely does _not_ whine and arch his back in an attempt to chase Nick's mouth. "Yeah." Fuck, he's out of breath. "Yeah, 'm good." He turns to look over his shoulder, catching Nick's eye for just a moment before he has to drop his head again. "Nick."

Nick says something else, but it's lost to Louis' ears when Nick puts his mouth back on his arse, tongue pointed against the clench of his hole, pressing, threatening to slip inside, only for a moment. One long, breathless moment, and then Nick's licking over him again, tongue broad and flat or pointed and circling, pressing, flickering.

Louis makes a strangled noise when Nick finally presses his tongue inside, a gasp and a moan all tangled up together. He can't qualify the feeling as anything but _good_ , and he fumbles to get a hand on his cock, wanking himself off with firm, steady strokes as Nick fucks his tongue in and out of Louis' arse, moaning and squeezing his cheeks.

Louis comes with a sob, shooting onto Nick's sheets, the arm that's still holding him up trembling madly. Nick carries on until Louis twitches away, oversensitive and overwhelmed, pressing his face into the pillows for a long moment to hide the tears he hadn't even realized he'd cried. He stays there until his breath begins to even out, Nick's hands stroking long and gentle down his back and over his arse again and again.

Once he's caught his breath, he turns onto his back and looks up at Nick, kneeling over him, his cock curved up against his belly, hard and flushed. "All right?" Nick asks, stroking a hand over Louis' hip.

Louis nods distractedly. "Yeah, fine." He sits up, setting his hands on Nick's hips and tugging him forward. "Fuck my mouth."

" _Christ_ , Louis."

"Do it," Louis insists, tugging harder, until Nick is knee-walking up the bed, straddling Louis' chest. "Go on. Fuck my mouth, Nick."

Nick dick twitches even as he's guiding it into Louis' open mouth. Louis guides him forward with his hands on his hips, watching Nick's face as he works over his cock. Nick talks the whole time, a litany of curses and praise, his hands clutching at the headboard. He doesn't last long, spilling as soon as he hits the back of Louis' throat, groaning hoarsely before collapsing to the side.

"All right?" Louis asks, his own voice a bit of a rasp, grinning wickedly when Nick fixes him with a disbelieving look.

"You are actually unbelievable," he says.

"Don't lie, Nicholas. You know you love me."

Nick's expression changes a bit, softening. "Yeah. I do," he agrees, reaching out to stroke his fingertips along the side of Louis' hand.

"Me, too," Louis whispers. "I love you."

Nick smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "C'mon," he says, rolling off the side of the bed. "There's cheesecake in the fridge, and I'm starving."

They eat cheesecake naked in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, forking off bites straight from the container. Louis sneaks bits to Pig, and Nick pretends not to see, and Louis really does love him.

*

"I told Nick that I love him."

Niall looks up from his magazine and blinks. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Niall grins, and Louis honestly doesn't understand. "Does it bother you?"

"What? You loving Nick?"

"Yeah, and like, sharing me with him. Aren't you jealous?"

Niall shrugs, a quick lift and fall of his shoulders. "Not really. I just want you to be happy, Lou. If Nick makes you happy, I'm good." He tilts his head, considering. "Do you want me to be jealous?"

Louis takes a moment to really consider it, but, "No, but I don't get it."

"Listen, you were a mess when you and El first ended things," he says baldly. "And now you're not. I'm pretty sure at least part of that is down to Nick, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So I'm good." Niall shrugs again. "Is that all right?"

Louis nods, then slips into Niall's lap, his magazine getting all crumpled between their chests, leaning in to kiss him softly so he doesn't say anything stupid.

Truthfully, he's just waiting for all of it to go to hell. At best, it'll fall apart slowly, quietly. At worst, it'll blow up in his face in spectacular fashion and wind up in the tabs. People don't get this, they don't get to be in love with two people, to have both of those people and not have it go to shit. Especially not Louis.

*

Louis goes back to Doncaster for a weekend, ostensibly to be there for his granddad's birthday, but more because Lottie and Fizzy double-teamed him, begging him to come home and spend time with them. It's those conversations that brought him here, stretched out on a sofa in the lounge of his mother's house, Lottie at the other end so their feet are tangled together, Daisy curled up against his chest mostly asleep. Phoebe is already asleep in a nest of cushions and blankets on the floor, and Fizzy is wrapped up in the duvet from her bed in an armchair, playing Candy Crush Soda Saga on Louis' phone because their mum still won't let her get her own. _Up_ is playing on the telly, the third in their Pixar film marathon (following _The Incredibles_ and _Wall-E_ ).

Louis' really happy where he is. He's spent his day with the babies and the girls, he's eaten his mum's cooking, and the tabs don't seem to have gotten wind of where he is yet, so he hasn't had his photo taken by anyone who isn't family for a whole day.

And he's only thought about Nick and Niall and how much he loves both of them a dozen or so times, preoccupied enough with other things that it isn't the constant hum in the back of his mind that it's become in recent weeks.

"Lou," Fizzy says, holding his phone out when he cranes his neck to look at her. "You keep getting alerts."

"Ignore them."

She shakes her head. "It's fine, I'm done."

He takes the phone and thumbs through the alerts: texts from Harry and Stan, one from his mum reminding him that there's ice cream in the freezer if they want a late snack, a handful of emails that he'll deal with when he gets back to London, and a few Tweets. He taps through to a photo that Niall has posted, captioned with _This guy!_

Niall's snapped the photo himself, pint glass visible in his free hand. Nick is beside him, one long arm draped over Niall's shoulder. They're both grinning, bright, sincere smiles that make Louis smile, too, hours away on his mother's sofa with his sisters. He likes it a lot, the idea of the two of them together, a warm feeling spreading in his chest just thinking about it.

They're talking about him, he's sure. How could they not be, when he's such a part of each of their lives, when they're each the biggest parts of his these days? He loves thinking of the two of them together, becoming friends on their own, without him, and how it could lead to the three of them being together.

Like in those articles he was reading about polyamory, how sometimes two people in a relationship are just good friends while the third sleeps with them both, is _with_ them both. It's almost like what they are now, but better. And maybe if they became friends, they could become something more, the three of them together.

It's a lot to think about, and Louis tries not to, tries not to get his hopes up or get too far ahead of himself. Nick and Niall are really only acquaintances; the thing they have most in common is Louis, which isn't necessarily enough to build any sort of relationship on.

He makes it to the next afternoon before he texts one of them about it. _Make a new friend last night did you?_ he sends to Niall, tapping his fingers anxiously as soon as it's gone through. He's supposed to be getting ready for his granddad's birthday dinner, but his hair's still wet from his shower and he hasn't chosen a shirt.

_Nick and I were already friends. We drank and talked about you._

Louis' stomach flutters hectically. _Did you_

_Course_

Louis forces himself not to type out a reply demanding an explanation - what exactly does Niall mean, they talked about him? - finding a shirt and going to the bathroom to bicker with Lottie over space in front of the mirror.

He can't think about it. He just can't. It's too much. He distracts himself as best he can, picking at his sisters, commandeering the babies one at a time, having a long conversation with his granddad.

The girls keep him busy once they get back home. They stay up late, all four of them with him, spread out in the lounge with cushions and duvets. The twins insist on varnishing his toenails - electric blue on his right foot, princess purple on the left - before falling asleep curled up together the same way they did when they shared a crib. Fizzy has a boyfriend who Louis insists she tell him all about, and thinks that their mum is being seriously unfair, not allowing her to have a phone of her own yet. Lottie is trying to decide what she wants to do when she finishes school and asks Louis about a million questions.

"But what if I get to uni and I don't like it?" she presses when he tells her that she should do whatever she wants.

"Then you quit." He shrugs helplessly when she makes an exasperated noise. "Lots, I don't know. Even without the band I wasn't ever going to end up at uni." He pokes the bottom of her bare foot, grinning when she twitches away. "You could ask El," he offers. "I'm sure she'd do her best to help you."

"I have," Lottie admits, shooting a glance at Fizzy, who looks oddly guilty. "She's been there, you know."

"It's fine," he insists. "Just because we broke up doesn't mean you can't still be friends with her."

"We didn't want to hurt your feelings," Fizzy says, quiet.

"You haven't. You won't." He looks between them, his little sisters who are so much older sitting here in front of him than they are in his head, having grown up since he went to audition for X Factor and never really came home again. "El and I are still friends, but even if we weren't, you're allowed to still like her."

The girls glance at each other, and then Lottie nods. "All right."

The quiet stretches between them for a long moment, hints of doubt lingering in Fizzy's expression until Louis breaks it, lunging forward and tackling both of them back into their pillows, their shrieks and giggles rousing the twins until they're a mass of flailing limbs and giggles, fingers seeking out soft spots to prod and tickle.

*

Louis trails behind Nick, the two of them weaving through the narrow aisles of the third store Nick has dragged him to on his search for a housewarming gift for one of his friends who's just moved house. Everything here is antique or otherwise second-hand, carefully curated for hipster wankers. Louis is trying very hard not to let his disinterest show. He doesn't have the patience for places like this, where you have to sort past the shit to get to the real treasures. It says a lot about their relationship that he's willing to be this bored for a chance to spend an afternoon with Nick.

"What are you looking for, exactly?" he asks, working to keep his voice politely interested.

"Not sure, really," Nick answers vaguely. "I'll know it when I see it."

Louis swallows back a sigh and looks around. Harry would love this place, even if Louis is bored out of his head. He busies himself examining a set of pink enameled bakeware that looks like something his nan had when he was a kid, giving the price tag a cursory glance before gesturing for a clerk to wrap it up. It'll make a nice Christmas gift.

Fortunately, Nick finds success in the shop, too, in a pair of spindly iron chairs, the seats upholstered in burgundy and gold damask. They certainly don't look like the sort of chairs that anyone is going to sit on, which means they're exactly the sort of furniture that Louis hates. He keeps his mouth shut though; it isn't his gift.

"Come on then," Nick says, leading Louis out the door after they've made arrangements to have their purchases delivered. "There's a good pub just 'round the corner."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles, tucking his hands into his coat pockets against the chill. "Thanks for coming with. I know you hated every minute."

"I didn't," Louis lies immediately. Nick scoffs. "It isn't the worst thing I've done lately."

Nick hums, but doesn't say anything, smiling softly as they walk.

"It's what you do when you love someone, innit?" Louis says, quiet so he can't be overheard by anyone nearby. "Tag along even when you hate it, just to be with them."

"Suppose." There's a pink flush on Nick's cheeks. Louis can't be sure that it isn't from the cold, but Nick looks pleased enough that he doesn't care.

*

Louis invites Niall over for a proper dinner at his house, promising to actually cook something. He puts together a baked pasta dish - his mother's recipe, handed over with a promise that it's foolproof - and a salad. He's bought nice bread and even gotten in wine that will go better with the meal than the beer he and Niall usually drink. He knows they'll still end up eating in front of the telly, but he's put effort into it, is the point.

He's in the kitchen when he hears the front door open, bent over in front of the open oven door taking the aluminum foil off the top of the baking dish just like the recipe says. "Kitchen, Ni!" he calls, resetting the oven timer so he doesn't accidentally burn anything. "I told you I was actually going to cook!"

"Hey."

Louis whirls, wide-eyed, to look at Nick, standing just inside his kitchen. "What?"

Niall pushes past Nick, sniffing the air interestedly. "What are you makin'?"

"Baked ziti," Louis answers automatically. "What's going on?"

"You're cooking us dinner," Niall replies, finding Louis' handwritten recipe card on the counter and picking it up.

"No, I mean." Louis stops, looking at Nick, still hovering in the doorway. "Why are you here?"

His tone isn't accusatory, but it's a near thing, and Louis is grateful that Nick doesn't seem to hold it against him when he answers. "We've been talking. Me and Niall."

"Talking," Louis repeats. "About me."

"Course," Niall answers easily, like it's not at all weird. He leans back against the worktop, tapping the recipe card against the edge. "Since that party when you were in Donny."

"We thought, maybe, since you want us both," Nick says, finally coming into the kitchen properly, so he's standing just in front of Louis, "that you might want us both together."

"Want you both. Here for dinner?"

Niall snickers. "Not just that, Lou."

Louis' heart stutters, skipping a beat or three. "Are you really proposing a threesome?"

"Yes," Niall says, like it's simple. His eyes are shining, his posture relaxed.

"Something like that," Nick amends. He and Niall share a look. Louis recognizes the helpless, out-of-his-depth expression Nick is wearing; it's the same one he gets when Louis starts talking too technically about football.

"Since you said you don't know how to choose, we thought we could see what happens when you know you don't have to," Niall says.

Louis swallows hard around the lump that's risen in his throat. This is a lot. "I don't - "

"It's kind of an experiment," Niall interrupts before Louis can show them that he has no idea what to say.

"A trial run," Nick supplies, stepping in closer to press a soft kiss to Louis' mouth. His knuckles brush over the back of Louis' hand, and Louis isn't too proud to admit that he grasps and clings for a long moment. "Just go with it, love."

Louis' gaze flickers to Niall, who is watching with an expression that would be inscrutable to anyone who hadn't spent the last five years living in his pocket. Louis can see the flare of interest in his eyes. "All right."

It hangs there in the air between them for a long moment, Nick's hand still caught in Louis', Niall's warm gaze on the pair of them. "Didn't you say you were going to feed me?" he asks, lightening the mood without shattering it in the way that only Niall could manage.

Louis glances at the timer. "Ten more minutes."

"I'll set the table," Niall says, moving immediately to the cupboard to retrieve plates.

Louis looks at Nick helplessly for a moment. It's almost weird, having Nick in his kitchen. They've never spent any real time here together, Louis preferring Nick's flat even before he and Eleanor broke up. "I have wine," he blurts.

Nick's smile is quick and brilliant. "Let's get it open then."

They eat, all three of them sat around the table in Louis' dining room, drinking wine and chatting. It's easy, between them, not that that's a surprise. Nick talks and makes friends for a living, and Niall hasn't ever met someone he couldn't make his friend. Louis tries to keep up, but he's completely fucking distracted by what's coming, his mind racing at the very idea of being with Niall and Nick at the same time.

It's all he's been able to think about for weeks and weeks, how much easier everything would be if he could just have Nick and Niall together all the time, and now that it's actually a real thing that's going to happen, he's completely overwhelmed. Things like this don't happen to Louis. People leave him; they don't come together to satisfy his weird whims and desires.

And there are so many ways it could go wrong. Worse, it could be perfect, exactly what he's been hoping for, and Nick or Niall or both of them could decide that it's too much, that it'll never happen again. What if it's perfect and they never want to do it again? What if this is Louis' only chance to have what he wants so badly before it all goes spectacularly to shit?

After they've finished eating, Louis scoops up their plates to take them to the kitchen. Niall follows behind him, carrying the salad bowl. "Hey." He sets the bowl on the counter, and as soon as Louis' dumped the plates in the sink, Niall catches him by the front of his shirt and pulls him into a kiss. It's slow and sweet, the sort of kiss that you sink into. "Relax," Niall murmurs into his mouth, sucking gently at Louis' lower lip.

"That looks nice." Nick is hovering in the doorway again, this time leaned against the frame, relaxed, watching with gentle interest.

Louis blushes, and Niall is flushed, too. Nick comes closer, leaning in to kiss Louis softly, even softer than before, just a brush of his lips against Louis'. "All right?"

"Yeah," Louis breathes, catching Nick's hand in his and squeezing.

"Is this what you want?"

Louis looks at Niall, takes in his bright eyes and eager expression, and takes his hand, squeezing it and Nick's at the same time. "I really do." He leans in to kiss Niall, a chaste press of lips. "We should go upstairs though."

Of the three of them, Niall is the one who seems the most sure of what they're doing. He pulls his shirt off as soon as they break the threshold of Louis' bedroom, dropping it to the floor and turning to tug Louis into a kiss before Louis has even had time to feel embarrassed about his unmade bed and the pile of dirty laundry on the chair in the corner.

Niall is thorough, pressing up close to Louis, snogging him slowly, the sort of kiss that you pull out of with no sense of how much time has passed or what's been happening around you in the meantime. He's got his fingers all tangled up in the back of Louis' hair, his other hand pushed up beneath the back of Louis' shirt to press at the small of his back, keeping them close together. "Nick," he breathes against Louis' mouth, making him whimper softly, so softly that only Niall hears. "C'mere. Kiss him."

It's like they pass him off, Louis turning from Niall's arms into Nick's, tipping his head back so Nick can lick into his mouth. He clutches Nick's biceps, a tether to keep his feet on the floor when he feels like he could fly apart at any moment. Niall presses close against his back, fingers slipping up under the hem of Louis' shirt, tugging it up until he has to pull away from Nick to let Niall pull it up over his head. "Fuck," he gasps, tipping his forehead against Nick's shoulder. "I don't - " He sucks in a breath when Niall presses his mouth against the skin just behind his left ear. "How are we doing this?"

"We'll figure it out," Niall murmurs. He's looking at Nick when Louis cranes his neck to look at him, eyes dark and hot, and Louis tries and fails to smother a moan.

"What do you want, Lou?" Nick asks, hands skimming over the bare skin of his hips, just above the waistband of his joggers. He kisses Louis' top lip, soft. "D'you wanna fuck one of us? Or get fucked?"

Louis whines, parting his legs so one of Nick's thighs is between his, something warm and solid to grind up against as he goes painfully hard in his pants.

"I could eat you out," Nick goes on, nipping sharp little bites along Louis' jaw. He might've been unsure when they came upstairs, but he seems to have found his footing well enough. "Lick your arse until you cry, get you all wet and open so Niall can fuck you."

"Jesus _Christ_ ," Niall swears vehemently, fingers biting into Louis' hips while he sinks his teeth gently into the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. Louis feels surrounded, trapped in the best way, nearly overwhelmed.

And then Nick and Niall are kissing over his shoulder, oddly soft for how Nick has been talking, and _fuck_ but Louis might not make it through this, truly. "Oh, god," he whispers, sagging back into Niall.

Nick hums, a soft, content sound when he and Niall part. His eyes are fond under the hot arousal when he looks back at Louis. "What do you want, Lou?" he repeats.

"Hafta ask for what you want," Niall adds in a whisper, lips brushing against Louis' ear.

It's so much. It's too much, he wants too much, and he has to make the most of this because there's no way he can expect it to ever happen again. He pushes up onto his toes and kisses Nick, hard and filthy. "I want you to fuck me."

"All right," Nick murmurs into the kiss, hissing when Louis nips hard at his bottom lip.

Louis turns to press himself up against Niall, swallowing a whine at the loss of the pressure of Nick's thigh on his cock. "I want to fuck you though," he tells Niall, watching his eyes go darker.

"Yeah," Niall says, pressing his hips forward, cock against Louis' hip, hard and straining at the front of his jeans. "Get naked," he orders, pulling away abruptly, peeling his shirt up over his head. "You, too, Nick."

"Who put you in charge?" Louis asks, though his joggers have already hit the floor.

"Not in charge," Niall says. "I just want to get fucked."

Nick snorts a laugh, pressing his forehead to Louis' shoulder. "Oh, god."

"How do you want me?" Niall asks, tugging Louis' rucked up duvet down to the foot of the bed. He's hard, cock red and curving up toward his belly, a pink flush staining his cheeks and chest. It's absurd how _cute_ his smile is in this moment.

"I want to lick you open first," Louis blurts; Nick moans, a low, rough sound, while Niall blinks. "Can I? Is that okay?"

"Fuck, Louis. Yeah, that's okay," Niall says. Nick shudders, pressed up close to Louis' back again, naked now except for his pants."How do you want me?"

"Put him on his hands and knees," Nick says, voice rough, lips pressed to Louis' ear. "Think how pretty he'll look like that."

"Hands and knees," Louis chokes, and Nick is right. Niall climbs up on the bed and does what Louis asks, and he looks so pretty like that, open and trusting and just _waiting_ for him.

They haven't done this before; Louis hasn't done this with anyone but Nick, and then only once from this side, Louis licking into Nick, Nick talking Louis through it in a strangled voice. "Help me," he says softly to Nick, thinking of that. "Tell me what to do."

"God." Nick squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. "Just...touch him a bit. Let him get used to you being there."

Louis kneels up on the bed behind Niall, sitting back on his heels, sliding his hands over Niall's hips, up to his shoulder blades and back down until he's squeezing Niall's cheeks in his hands, just gently.

"Niall," Nick says softly, settling there at the foot of the bed beside Louis. "Is this all right?"

"Yeah." His hips jump when Louis lets his thumb slip into the crease of his arse, skimming light over his hole. "It's good, yeah."

Nick hums. "Give him a kiss, Lou. Gentle." Louis leans up a bit to press a soft, dry kiss to the base of Niall's spine, and another just above where the crease of his arse begins. "Niall. Have you done this before?"

"Yeah." Louis kisses his left cheek. "Not like this, but yeah." His right.

"And you like it?" Nick asks Niall before dropping his voice for Louis. "Don't tease, love."

"Yes." Niall's voice goes a bit strained when Louis pulls his cheeks apart, gently, leaning in so Niall can feel his breath against his hole before he lays a soft kiss there. "Yeah, I do."

"Soft tongue," Nick murmurs. "What do you like about it?"

"Fuuuck," Niall draws out when Louis finally licks over his hole, tongue broad and soft. "Feels mad, yeah? Hot." He whines when Louis swirls his tongue a bit. "Fuck, Louis. Nick, I can't - "

"All right," Nick soothes. He shuffles a bit closer to Louis, laying a hand on the back of his neck to keep him close to Niall. "You want to get him ready to fuck, yeah? Get him wet, Louis."

Louis moans, which makes Niall shiver and gasp beneath him, and _fuck_. He loses track of exactly what's happening, dazedly following Nick's instructions, opening Niall up slowly on his tongue and then his fingers with lube that Nick presses into his hand, distantly registering the way that Niall shudders and moans and gasps for him.

"Lou. Lou. _Louis._ "

Louis hums when Niall's voice finally penetrates the haze that's settled around him. "He's ready, love," Nick tells him. Louis pulls back, blinking muzzily at him. He's obscenely hard in his pants, cheeks a hectic pink, eyes dark. He presses a condom into Louis' hand. "Go on then."

"Lou, please," Niall pants, looking over his shoulder at him, eyes shining. "Fuck me."

"Fuck, Niall. How do you want it?"

"Like this." He's dropped down onto his elbows, and when Louis takes his dick in hand and traces the tip of it over Niall's hole, he lets his head fall down onto the pillow. "Lou."

"I got you," he murmurs, pressing in slowly. Niall is so hot and so tight around him, and Nick's hand is resting broad and warm across his shoulder blade, and he's already so, so close.

"Me too," Niall says, and Louis hadn't realized he'd said it aloud, but he's glad he isn't here alone. He leans forward, draping himself over Niall's back, reaching around to get a hand on his cock so he can pull him off, quick, twisting strokes like Louis knows he likes, counterpoint to his thrusts.

Everything goes taffy pull slow. It might be just twenty thrusts or twenty minutes before Niall cries out, spilling over Louis' hand and clenching around his cock. "Fuck, Niall, fuck," he splutters, watching himself sink into Niall over and over. "God, _Niall_ ," he bites out, the rhythm of his hips stuttering as he comes, spilling into the condom.

He pulls out carefully, peeling off the condom and dropping it in the bin next to the bed before collapsing onto the mattress beside Niall, leaning in to press a kiss to his mouth. "Love you," he mumbles into it, feathering his fingers through the sweaty hair at Niall's temple.

"Love you," Niall returns, equally soft.

Still breathless, Louis pushes up onto his elbows to look at Nick. He's still sitting near the foot of the bed, still hard in his pants. He looks like he's waiting patiently, but when Louis looks closer, he can see a tightness around Nick's eyes, a hesitance. With some effort, Louis crawls to the end of the bed so he can kneel in front of him. "Will you kiss me?" he whispers.

Some of the tightness disappears when Nick smiles at him. "Course."

It's slow and easy, even though Nick's so hard it must be nearly painful, and Louis really loves him a lot. "Will you still fuck me?"

Nick noses along his jaw. "Do you still want me to?"

"God, yes," Louis says, emphatic. "So much, Nick." He kisses him again, dirtier this time. "Please."

Nick bears him down onto the pillows, kissing him breathless, brushing gentle fingers over his hips and his still-sensitive cock. "You're sure?"

"Jesus, Nick, yes." Niall snickers softly at his exasperation. "Finger me open. I'll be good before you're finished."

It's like he's set Nick some sort of challenge, but Louis couldn't quantify it if he tried. Nick stretches out on the bed beside Louis, one hand between Louis' thighs, fingers working into him one at a time while he kisses him stupid. He moves agonizingly slowly, fucking Louis carefully on one, two, three fingers, scissoring them open and pressing unerringly against his prostate, until Louis is hard and leaking, a writhing, begging mess on the sheets. At some point, he flails out, catching Niall's hand and grasping it like some sort of lifeline.

"Jesus Christ, Nick, _please_ ," he begs. "If you don't fuck me I'm going to come like this."

"All right," Nick murmurs against the curve of his jaw, finally shucking out of his pants and accepting the condom that Niall hands him.

Louis shudders when Nick pushes inside, sliding home almost easily thanks to all the prep. He hitches one leg up, hooking his knee over Nick's hip, pressing up into him. "Nick."

"Fuck, you feel so good," Nick tells him, strained. He pulls back and strokes in slowly, trembling. "I'm so close already."

Louis wants to kiss him, but his head is too heavy to lift off the pillow. He settles for digging his blunt fingernails into his shoulder blade. "Me, too. Fuck me, Nick. C'mon."

Nick has enough control to fuck into him in even, steady thrusts. Louis holds out as long as he can, but it's making him crazy. He reaches to get a hand around his cock, but Niall beats him there, wrapping a calloused hand around him, wanking him off with slow pulls that match the pace of Nick's hips. "Jesus, Niall. _Nick_ ," he gasps when Nick drives into him perfectly, sparks flickering beneath his skin.

"Louis. Lou, fuck."

"C'mon," Louis gasps, arching up into Niall's hand. He's twisting his wrist, swiping his thumb over the head of Louis' cock, dragging him closer to the edge with each motion. "C'mon, love."

" _Fuck_ ," Nick shudders out, his rhythm faltering when he comes, dropping his head against Louis' shoulder. "Come, Louis," he mumbles against his skin, hips still twitching, and that's all it takes. Louis spills messy between their bellies, body falling limp as soon as he's spent.

Niall slips out of the bed when Nick pulls out, moving away from Louis to take care of the condom and flop down to the mattress at Louis' side. He returns a moment later with a damp flannel, his own belly already wiped clean.

"That was...a lot," Louis says, not managing to do much more than watch while Niall cleans the come from his belly, moving the flannel carefully around his soft dick.

Nick huffs a laugh. "Well put, Lou."

Louis turns his head to look at him. "Was it - Are we okay?"

"We're so good," Nick tells him quickly, darting a glance to Niall. "That was perfect."

"It's all good, Lou," Niall says, leaning across him to start cleaning the come from Nick's skin, unbidden. If Nick is startled by the familiarity of it, it doesn't show on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Perfect." And he is. He really is.

Satisfied that they're all sufficiently clean, Niall drops the flannel over the side of the bed. "We should have a kip then. Talk about it once we've rested."

They curl together like they've planned it, all facing the same direction like spoons slotted together in a drawer, Louis' nose pressed into the soft hair at the base of Niall's skull, Nick's hand low on Louis' hip with their knees bent together. Louis, snugged up between them, thinks it's almost like this is how they were supposed to be.

It's the fastest he's fallen asleep in months.

*

The next morning, they sit together around the kitchen table, a plate of toast set in the middle, Louis and Niall sipping tea, Nick with coffee that Louis unearthed from the back of a cupboard, origins unknown.

"How exactly is this going to work?" he asks when it becomes clear that neither Nick nor Niall is going to.

"We'll figure it out," Nick says softly, looking between the other two, reaching over to take Louis' hand in his. Under the table, Niall hooks his foot around Louis'.

He likes it a lot, having both of them here with him, the three of them all together. It feels like a beginning, the start of something that could be great, for all of them. He never could have imagined it, but it's so _good_.

So they'll figure it out.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://accidentalambivalence.tumblr.com/)


End file.
